charles in charge*

I like to ask (and be asked) hard questions. I like the process of thinking things through and coming to conclusions. I like to be able to see both sides of an issue and figuring out where I stand. I don't even mind changing my mind.

But sometimes, I just want to look a pictures of my cute babies. And there are far too few pictures of my baby on here.

Little Charlies is a dream. So calm and mild mannered. A good sleeper. Patient with his older siblings. We all love him. He is smiling and starting to coo. At his two month check up he weighed a hefty 13 pounds and he is already wearing 3-6 months size.  If I would have known how chill he was going to be, it would have saved me some anxiety.

2 weeks old

3 weeks old: taken by Ana

one month

Blessing day: March 1

Blessing day: March 1

Smiling!

sleeping on the floor

2 months old and loves his hand!

...Sigh... I love my baby.


*Anyone else think of THIS theme song? Though we prefer the Scrubs version. (at 2:45)

write now

When I was 8 my sister gave me her old journal. She had used about half of it and it was blue with white geese and hearts on the cover and it had "I {heart} Rolly" written all over the inside cover. I didn't care. I tore out all her used pages and began writing. I wrote about Christmas presents and who won the Super Bowl and crushes and family and church and school and whatever else my little brain thought of.

I kept writing, too. I filled journal after journal. I still have them all in a box in the garage. To date I have filled about 2 dozen journals. Granted, most of my journal writing from the childhood/teenage years are filled with boys. That's all I really thought about in those days. The last 10 years my writing has decreased, but I like to think the material is a little elevated. Sometimes I think about those books tucked away in the garage and I wonder if there really is a point. I don't often go through and read them. Usually when I do I just laugh.

Today I came across my journal from 2011-2013. Ana found it and opened its pages. She opened it to a random spot and started reading it to me aloud. I felt nervous, not knowing which part of my soul she was about to discover. She happened upon an entry about her. It told of how Ana had befriended "the new girl" and welcomed her into her heart, like Ana always does. I wrote about how I felt like Ana was an instrument in the hands of God in helping that little girl and her mother feel loved and I expressed gratitude for Ana's friendly, outgoing nature.

As Ana read the words, her countenance changed. All the frustration she came home with melted away. She blushed and hid her face for a minute. The rest of the afternoon she carried it around and read it. She told me she felt loved and gave me a hug.

A few years ago I had been talking to a friend who had related a really hard experience she had gone through. I had wondered to myself why I didn't feel more inspired to help her at that time. That night I was reading through my journal and I came across an entry when I had called her to see if I could babysit or something and she had declined. I realized in that moment that I had been listening to the Spirit, regardless of her willingness to accept help.

This is why it is so important to write. We write our histories for ourselves and for our children. As we look back, we see strength and goodness and change. It is part of my legacy and their heritage.  The words I wrote changed my daughter. Maybe not permanently, but for an afternoon, she was changed.

Charlie's blessing day family picture

a reflection

I sent this picture to a sister on Sunday. I still need words of affirmation sometimes. Especially when in comes to clothes.

Back in June I wrote about my goal for this decade of my life called "my 30s." I wrote about how I wanted to be comfortable in my own skin and to be more accepting of myself. I am here tonight (for it is 11 pm and the entire family is asleep and I feel the need to write a minute) to report on my progress.

*Right now there is a huge pile of shoes sitting right next to the designated "shoe boxes" by my front entryway. Someone must have been looking for shoes before we rushed out the door to the kids' school this evening. They were having a movie night tonight and the kids wanted to go so we did even though once we were there and the room filled to the brim with children I started to worry a little bit about germs so I put a blanket over Charlie's carseat and hoped he stayed asleep because we were so packed there was no way I would be able to nurse comfortably. (He did sleep, thank goodness.) There is also a pampers-box-turned-rocket-ship, and other random items strewn about the room. My kitchen sink has dishes from after-school snacks and our quick dinner, but all the pots and pans are clean and the dishes in the dishwasher are clean and I got all the laundry folded and into their respective rooms. Plus I attended a Gospel study class, took Katie to the library and kept 4 children alive and happy. The rest can wait til tomorrow.

This was the movie event. You can see Ana in the background (bright yellow shirt.) I love watching her "make the rounds" at events.  She knows and loves everybody. Even the adults.

*I finally have stuff hanging on my living room wall. It took a while for me to figure out what I wanted. Pinterest, despite its bad wrap for making Mommies feel like they are not good enough and the many Pinterest fail blogs, has helped me to "see" my style. Just by pinning stuff that I like, I can look at a board and say: Oh, so that's my style. I like things that mean something to me personally, not just stuff that looks good. I like things that we have gathered, or pictures we have taken, or my children's artwork on display. I like bright colors. I like mismatched chairs around the dining room table and lots of colorful throw pillows and asymmetry. I like random. This has extended to my personal clothing style too. I like long necklaces and bright colors and funky, colorful shoes.  Pinterest helped me to see that.

*I am an aspen tree. I am light and airy and need connectivity and a network in order to thrive. I am a social being and I have to allow myself time to make connections. Real, human connections. And while I sometimes let social media try to fill the void, it usually does the opposite. I am learning to seek out real connections when I am feeling down and unmotivated instead of artificial ones.

*I am a Mary. I always think that in the hour and a half I have while Katie is at preschool that I am going to be super productive and get a bunch of stuff checked off my list. Sometimes I am. Most of the time I read my scriptures and write in my journal for a good portion of it. I get less "done" but I feel so much better. I have had some powerful spiritual insights the last couple weeks as I have done so.

*I am a good-enough-ist (in contrast to a perfectionist.) I heard once the saying "If something is worth doing, it is worth doing just barely." That resonates with me. My housework gets done, but sometimes, just barely. It is still worth doing. Our family nights are not perfect, and sometimes a little thrown together, but it is still worth doing.   I am not saying that I am complacent.  Complacency leaves us empty. But as Mary Poppins says: Enough is as good as a feast.


This is what I have discovered about myself over the last 10 months as I have been on this road to self-discovery and acceptance. I am not saying that these are the only or best ways to be. These are MY ways of being. I am not perfect. I have goals I am working towards like reaching out more to others and running a couple races this summer and I am still working really hard at not raising my voice. (I have been working on that one for about 10 years.)

Look, I even went running. Charlie didn't seem to mind too much

Something interesting is happening too. I am getting better. Not only is accepting myself helping me feel better, it is actually helping me BE better. I am a better person. I am less judgmental towards others. I am warmer to my children. I am less stressed out. I am more charitable. It is becoming easier to stay calm, to forgive, to apologize, and to be patient.  The phrase "to love others you must first love yourself" isn't about being narcissistic. It is about knowing who we are and what we have to offer.

I am not all there. There are days that are full of self-doubt. But I am making progress. And that is enough.

on having the fourth

I survived the first week with Dave back to work. Hooray!

I have been so nervous about having 4 kids. There were so many times leading up to Charlie's birth that I thought, "I am so far out of control as it is. Why am I having another child?"

Luckily, or more accurately, Providentially, Charlie is such a good baby. He is pretty calm and not hardly fussy. He sleeps great at night-only waking up to eat and goes right back to sleep. He has a pretty regular schedule of wake and sleep times during the day and he is pretty content lying on the floor, or swinging, or even being carried around by his biggest sister who dotes on him like no other. I feel good and am amazed at my energy-especially considering my complete lack of it my entire pregnancy.

Not to mention that we have been so well taken care of by our friends and neighbors. I do not think it is coincidental. God is aware of us and takes care of us.

The other kids have been adjusting well. I don't feel like we are having any behavior problems that have arisen. Of course, we definitely have our issues, but they don't seem to have been affected by the baby. He is just absolutely loved and adored by his 3 older siblings. Ana dotes. Jack beams. Katie smiles and loves, and mostly leaves him alone.

My mother - with her 9 children- often has said that after 3 kids, adding 1 more was no big deal. That going from 2 to 3 was the most difficult transition. Then I had Katie and with Ana in school and Jack being such a mellow 3 year old and adding Katie was no big deal. Then I was expecting #4 and suddenly I was hearing from so many people (including Jim Gaffigan) that 4 was the hardest.

But at the risk of sounding like a know-it-all mom, which I most definitely am not, I am going to say that having 1 child is the hardest.

Maybe it is because of who my #1 child is. And maybe it is because my kids are more spaced out than me and my siblings are, (after all, when my parents had #3, they had a 3.5 year old and a not-quite 2 year old. Yikes.) but having 1 baby is hard.

I was talking to a new mother the other day who is struggling feeling back to normal after having her first a few months ago. As we talked, she said something that really, to me, sums up having that first kid. She said that her confidence had been rocked because she feels like she has no idea what she is doing.

THAT is what makes motherhood so hard. We are all just fumbling along, wondering if what we are doing is "right." When we have that first baby, we go from confident and independent to being needed all the time by someone who can't communicate what it needs, only that it needs something. We struggle to figure out nursing and when to take a shower. We wonder if we should work or not or let them fuss or not or if what we are eating is making them gassy. And the thing is, even the most experienced mothers can only help so much because ultimately WE are the one with the God-given stewardship over this body and Spirit.

And in a lot of ways that confidence-shaking aspect never really goes away. Because now I have an 8 year old who is dealing with school struggles and a 6 year old who hesitates to try anything new or uncomfortable and a 3 year old who is full of energy and there are so many days that I think "I have no idea what I am doing."

Yet here I am with 4 kids. And I have found my groove in some ways. I have my way of doing things that may not look like my mother's way or my sisters' ways, or anybody else.  Newborns fill the house with a sense of Heaven and peace. It is a joy to watch the kids learn and grow. Katie says ridiculously funny things. Ana and Jack are learning and growing and there is nothing better than watching them develop. I am not here to say that it isn't hard. From the first to the last, each child brings immeasurable worry and immeasurable joy.

So it's okay if you are struggling with your 1 new baby or your toddler or whatever.  Just keep going. If life has seasons, this one is summer. The time when we work and sweat and the fruits of our labors seem far off. But Joy comes. Not every minute or every day even, but there is an overarching feeling over time that we are doing a great work.  The harvest will come and it will be sweet.

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.

baby boy

One week ago this little boy entered the world.

I decided to be induced and from the time they gave me pitocin til he was born was less than 3 hours. It was quick. I would like to say it was painless, but my epidural only half worked. At least it was quick. My mom came down Wednesday night and took care of the kids while we were in the hospital.

 

 The kids and Granny came up to see the baby that evening. Nothing was sweeter than Jack holding his little baby brother and beaming. He was so proud that he was a big brother and that they were going to share a room and be buddies. It was such a tender moment.

I have so many kids now. It seems like a big jump to go from 3 to 4. Luckily Dave has work off for another week.  It has been so great having him home. Ana loves to help. She is always offering to hold him and change his diaper and feed him.

We came home on Friday. I couldn't sleep in the hospital. I just wanted to watch and snuggle my little baby. The first night home I could only sleep if I was holding him. For 9 months I could feel his presence and then suddenly, we were apart. I think I was having separation anxiety. I can sleep now though. With Dave home I am trying to get as much as possible.

Charlie is eating like a champ.  He nursed right away and hasn't had any problems since. We have also given him a couple bottles, just so he gets used to the idea.

There is nothing in this world better than having a sleeping newborn on your chest. This is my favorite way to nap.

Katie has been a great big sister so far. Just yesterday he was crying during a diaper change and she was by his side, gently patting him and saying, "Its okay. Your big sister is here for you." She loves being the big sister.

So far he is a sweet and mild little baby. The other day I put him on his tummy and he drifted off to sleep and slept for a couple hours. He is sleeping well at night and rarely fusses. I know he is just a week old, but we love the calm little soul that is now in our home.

I am amazed at the timing of everything with little Charlie.  I know God's hand is working in our lives. When we found out we were expecting, we didn't know what the paternity leave was like here or what rotation he would be on, but it all worked out perfectly. Dave got to take 2 weeks paternity plus his scheduled vacation is next week. We could not have planned it more perfectly. We have had an outpouring of love from all directions. Meals have been brought in, gifts, people taking Katie for a little while, and many more people who have just checked in to ask how things are going. It has been amazing. I am so grateful to know the Source of our abundant blessings.

I hope that Charlie grows up to be as smart and faithful and kind as the two men (Dave's uncle and my dad) that he is named for. We are so glad he is here!

reach out

I have written a lot about our wonderful friends that we had in Vermont. Our friendships with them was almost instantaneous. We were all far away from our family, and we needed each other. We did family dinners and swapped kids for date nights and went to the park. We saw each other multiple times throughout the week. We borrowed milk and eggs from each other. We called each other when we went into labor, or hurt our back and couldn't move or needed to vent or laugh or cry. It was a unique experience and I knew nothing like that would happen again.

My absolute favorite picture of some of my absolute favorite people on earth. May 2013

It is different here. I love our ward and neighborhood and all the wonderful people I have met. They are wonderful people who love God and are willing to help anyone who needs it. We had people willing to come over and watch the kids (or have the kids over to their house) during Dave's whole kidney stone issue and I have a list of people willing to come over when I go into labor. Everyone is amazing, really.

However, because most of those around us were born and raised here and all of those needs are filled by their family. At least, that is how it seems. So, I have spent the last 6 months feeling mostly unneeded.  Not like in a "woe-is-me" kind of way. More like in a matter of fact way. I have just gone about doing my thing and letting myself be wrapped up in morning sickness and kid stuff and Dave's crazy work schedule. But I suspect that, like me, there are those - someone I see at church once a week or walking their dog around the neighborhood - that actually do need something from me.

So my resolution for the year 2015 is to REACH OUT.  I want to focus on lifting others up and seeing their needs.

Now, I realize that it might take some time to get traction on this resolution of mine. After all, we are about to have a baby and I imagine I will mostly be staying home for a few weeks. So perhaps my goal should be first, to SURVIVE. Then focus on reaching out.

I always set resolutions, but truthfully, don't always do well with them. Last year held a lot of changes for us and so it wasn't a great year for keeping resolutions. I only made it Leviticus in the Old Testament. (Partly because after we moved I started teaching a different class so I had that material to study.) Once morning sickness hit all hope for a routine went out the window.  And though I still get snappy with my kids, I think I am improving (very, very slowly) at speaking more kindly.  But, lest I think I am a failure, 2014 was a year for growing a baby, establishing a new home, and supporting Dave. In fact, I think in the last one I could say it has been the best. I don't think Dave and I have ever been more in sync with each other. Our marriage is absolutely stronger today than a year ago. I am so grateful for him every day and all he does for our family.

 I still believe what I said last year about resolutions. As long as we are working towards something, we aren't failing. It is always good to have a goal in mind. Something to look to and reach for and climb towards. Giving up because we think we can't do it or because we tried and failed keep us from seeing the best things that life has to offer. So even if I set that resolution to speak more kindly every single year for 10 years, change can still happen. Sometimes it is slow and almost imperceptible. But we are always changing as individuals. It is up to us to determine which direction that takes place.

preschool

I wonder if when we say or think certain things God laughs a little. Or maybe I have always been quick to judge and form opinions and God wants me to stop it. I have put my foot in my mouth so many times. Like when I teased my roommate roommate's boyfriend about being from po-dunk Rupert Idaho. Ha! I love that little town.

I have come to another one of those times. I always swore that 3 was WAY too young for preschool. "They need to be home with their mom," I said. I didn't even like the idea of sending a kid to preschool at all. Ana didn't go at all. Though I did send Jack to preschool, albeit reluctantly.

And this week I sent Katie to preschool. At 3 years old. She still looks too tiny for it, but man she is ready.  After years of living right next door to her best friend, Kenzie, and always having a playmate in little Zach while I was babysitting him, the past 4 months she has been going through some social withdrawals. And while I am sure I am a fun playmate, I can't just play Go-Fish or Uno all day every day. And Katie is always right there with me. I can't walk out of the room she is in without her shouting (and I mean shouting) my name over and over and over and over until I come back in. And she even insists on sleeping with me - waking up almost every single night (sometimes more than once) to come and get me or get in bed with me. We need some space. 

She is a joy and so stinking adorable sometimes I just can't stand it. Like when she puts her hand over her mouth when she is giggling. Or today when she was getting out of the car for preschool and she said, "Thanks Mommy! Have a good day at home." But some time away is okay too. With the baby coming I think it will be so good for her to have her own thing to do and to feel like a big girl. She is a big girl.

She came home from her first day beaming with joy. I think we made the right decision.

january

I love January. After the celebrations of the Holidays, I love the chance to pack it all away and reflect on the goodness of God and the changes I want to make. ("The calm after the storm" as I recently heard it called.)

Last year was a roller coaster year - full of high highs and low lows. We had the excitement of matching in Salt Lake City and the sadness of seeing loved ones pass. Dave graduated from medical school and we left dear friends and wonderful Vermont behind. We have had the news of a new baby and Dave's kidney stone episode and much more. We miss our Vermont family dearly, and as we all spread out more and more I know it is the ending of a wonderful era of our lives. We will always look back on our time there with such fondness.  The year was an eternity and yet the blink of an eye.

We have tried the make the most of living close to family. We have traveled to Idaho for Thanksgiving and Grandma's Christmas Party/Dave's birthday and again for New Year's Eve. It has been so wonderful!

As per our tradition, we stayed home for Christmas. We played with Jack's new helicopter and read books and Ana painted and Katie flitted around the house and we all went sledding and played endless games of Uno.  I thought it might be weird doing dinner alone since we have done dinner with friends the past few years, but it ended up being really nice.

My favorite Christmas scenes:

New Jammies

Katie took her role as Mary so seriously. It was the most precious thing I have ever seen

Christmas!

Painting with her new art set

Love the new robe from Grandmas

Reading. I have learned since she got this book that she likes graphic novels. She has read it twice already.

Fresh Christmas snow. Hooray for a white Christmas.

This year hasn't been my best for writing. I haven't journaled or blogged much.  I want to keep doing it.  It requires stillness and forces reflection. It requires that I focus on the good (or at least the humor) in every situation. I don't want to be so consumed with busy-ness that I neglect my need for stillness and reflection. It seems a mother's day is a day of "hyper-vigilance" - managing crises and functioning in a state of urgency. Much of that comes with the job. Writing, reflecting, being still, and focusing on things that matter most often get pushed aside, to the detriment of everyone involved.

While I haven't officially made my list of resolutions, I know that they will involve more pro-action. More time to be still. More time to write down thoughts and ideas. More slowing down and simplifying.

The baby's room is ready, and so as long as he stays put until Dave is done working his night shift rotation, we will be alright.

Hello, 2015.

to sophie

I have started a couple posts over the last week but not much seems significant. About 10 days ago, Sophie Fellows, the 9 year old daughter of some good friends of ours, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She is at Boston Children's Hospital and today will be going in for a 2nd surgery. The first one was on Friday and they didn't quite get the whole thing, so they are going back in.

Often at Christmas we get caught up in the business of pressure of buying gifts and sending cards and going to parties and giving goodie plates to the neighbors and a million other things. There is nothing wrong with that. We want our children to have wonderful memories of Christmas and the "magic" that seems to hang in the air every December. We want them to remember traditions and feel love and happiness. We want to keep in touch with friends and reach out to those around us. 

What matters most is love. All those little traditions, when done with love, add to the Spirit of the Christmas season. It's when we forget why we do them that we lose that Spirit. I hope the Fellows family feels so much love from across the country this holiday season. They have already seen so many miracles and I will keep praying that they can witness many more miracles this Christmas. Mostly, I hope they feel peace from the Prince of Peace whose birth we are celebrating.

Simon Dewey's Prince of Peace

You can follow Sophie's story HERE.