My New Favorite Christmas Tradition: Tell Me the Stories of Jesus

Ever since I became a mother and realized that the duty of ushering in the (true) Spirit of Christmas had fallen upon my shoulders I have struggled to do anything that really made an impact. I tried to implement many old and new traditions, many of them fairly elaborate or expensive, all with little or no impact.

Maybe it was my delivery. Maybe it was the young age of my children. But all my efforts were met with great frustration and perceived failure.

Back in November of this year I decided to try something a little different and follow the mantra of "Let there be peace on earth at home and let it begin with me" by acting upon a Facebook challenge of reading The Book of Mormon in forty days. I figured what better way to bring the Spirit into my own heart and my home than by drawing close to my Savior through His words. This would be my gift to the Christ Child.

For almost two weeks I followed the reading schedule strictly and marched my way through over 250 pages of scripture. But did I feel an overwhelming closeness to my Savior? Not really. Instead I felt stressed and guilty as I cruised by passages I wanted to study more closely all in the sake of completing the daily reading assignment on time. Enter more stress and guilt for devoting so much time to rushed reading when my children were watching TV, mindlessly, or inciting my anger and frustration with unattended messes and sibling arguments. Once Thanksgiving week hit, I began to fall behind and just never could seem to get caught up.

I felt terrible on top of all that stress and guilt. I had failed at even this.

I beat myself up about it for a few days, feeling like once again my efforts to make Christmas mean something for my family was a flop. I toyed with the idea of just giving up. (But c'mon. We moms never truly give up, right?)

Over Thanksgiving we had traveled to Idaho to visit my family and while there attended church at my parents' ward. It seems to be common practice in the LDS religion to send home lots of little papers with their primary children. I confess, I recycle most of these with hardly a glance. While meaningful, they're often scribbled, wrinkled, and quickly forgotten.

But for some reason, one paper that came home that post-Thanksgiving Sunday caught my eye. It even made it all the way from that church building in Home Town, Idaho to Current Town, Utah, (a veritable miracle in a car packed to the brim with four young children and loads of other stuff).

This paper somehow escaped the car clean-out after our trip and the recycling bin. It just kept resurfacing in my house and eventually I found myself studying it and realizing that this simple little activity might be worth a try.



Each night, through the month of December, I pulled out the corresponding picture from our Gospel Art Kit and we read the related scriptures. This replaced our nightly scripture study. We fell behind a few times, but were able to quickly catch up by reading a couple of stories at a time. Sometimes if we were crunched on time we would simply read the summary on the back of the picture instead of diving into all of the scripture verses. After each reading we would say our family prayers. Then after putting everyone to bed I would tape the picture on the dining room wall so we could look at it throughout the month.

It all took very little time and even less effort.

But "by small and simple things are great things brought to pass" (Alma 37:6).

Let me be totally honest here. There were several nights where I was practically yelling by the end and our prayers were said with more than one child goofing off or sulkily saying "Amen". But there were also several nights when the Spirit poured into our home. As we learned about Jesus from the foretelling of his birth, to his childhood, to the miracles he performed, to his suffering in Gethsemane and his Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and his visitation to the Nephites, He became very real to all of us. Even I learned a few things I didn't know or remember. We were no longer celebrating the birth of a strange and distant God, but our beloved brother and Savior. The kids would ask questions and we were able to have several conversations, some kind of silly, but some very sincere and spiritual in nature. It gave me the natural opportunity to bear my testimony to my family and share my love of Jesus Christ and the gospel with them.

Every year I feel kind of sad and melancholy when I take the tree and decorations down, but it will be these pictures that will be the most difficult to see go this year. Maybe we will just leave them up...

This is such a small, simple Christmas activity, definitely easier and less time consuming than that monumental 40 day challenge I totally bonked out on. Instead of feeling stressed and guilty, I felt peace and comfort that I was spending time and energy doing what Jesus would have me do. While reading the Book of Mormon in forty days is not a bad thing, it wasn't the best thing I personally could have done at this season of my life. I officially declare this as our new family Christmas tradition and I can't wait to do it again next year. Hopefully, I can stay out of my own way and not complicate it and just let the Spirit guide.

A couple of notes: I'm not exactly sure where this activity originated from; I just saw the paper that came home with my daughter. But from what little research I've done it's possible it came from the December 2008 issue of the LDS monthly publication, The Friend.

Also, while I am of the LDS faith and appreciate that these stories include the Savior's visitation to the Nephites on the American continent, this could very easily be tweaked for someone of a different faith. Most of the scriptures are in the New Testament and Gospel Art Books are very easy to order online (and only $3.50!), no matter what faith you are.

Making the Most of Mothers' Day

 

I've been missing from my blog for the last couple of weeks. That being said...I've been missing from a lot of things these days. I'm not exactly depressed, but I find myself feeling tired. Feeling useless. Feeling hopeless. Feeling lost in the monotony of housework and homework. Wondering what good am I for besides cleaning up messes and making sure my children are doing what they need to be doing. Wishing that my life was not one of single-married-hood. Wanting things that I simply cannot have.

It came to a head yesterday when I found myself snapping at my children and melting into tears of frustration. Frustration with my life. With the size of my bum and belly. With stupid, expensive mistakes. With goals that aren't coming to fruition. With mountains of laundry. With the thought of my husband leaving me alone again for weeks on end. With the never ending demands of motherhood.

I grappled to understand why it was so hard for me to be content right now. Typically, I find a great deal of joy in taking care of my home and family. What had changed? Why was I feeling so gloomy about everything?

Right before bed, it dawned on me. Mothers' Day is right around the corner.

Ahh Mothers' Day. The day I feel like the most worthless piece of humanity.

That would be greatly thanks to the traditional few weeks of failed parenting leading up to this day of maternal tribute. Yep, it's an annual thing. The days before that second Sunday in May, I find myself wading through heightened chaos with a decreased amount of patience.

The spilled milk. The bedtime balking. The fights over toys. The complaints about what's for dinner. The incessant demands to be fed. The sleepless nights. The seat belt struggle.

Molehills become mountains. Happy Mommy mutates into Grouchy Mommy. There is not much "love at home".

And by Mothers' Day I can hardly bear the cards and gifts and church service with all the sappy mother stories. Why? Because I sit there feeling like one big hypocrite.

Mothers are supposed to be sweet and kind and gentle and patient and whisper loving, confidence-building things into their children's eagerly listening ears. Regardless of how wonderful a mother I was the other eleven months of the year, it's those few prior weeks of particular bad behavior that stands so starkly in my mind on Sunday. And the spirit of Mothers' Day is destroyed.

Hmm...Now who do you think would love to sabotage such a beautiful occasion that celebrates one of the most important parts of a happy family??? Hmm.

Here's to ignoring The Adversary, to looking past faults, to letting go, to always trying to find happiness in the smallest things, to indulging in a cupcake in your closet, to turning a blind eye to the sticky finger prints on the walls, to being patient and kind and gentle, to enjoying Mothers' Day guilt-free every year!

Wish me luck.

Mommy Paydays

Over the last couple of days, I have been catching glimpses of the future. And it looks pretty bright.

For the past eight years I have been mired down in the muck of young motherhood. While it hasn't been totally horrible...it's had its moments.

Being a young mom is hard.

I imagine being an old mom is hard too. I don't know yet. I'm not there...yet. When I walk in those shoes, I'll let you know how it is.

For now, I only know mountains of laundry and potty training and sleep deprivation and senseless, needless messes everywhere I look and sticky fingerprints and snotty noses and four year old interrogation and whining and two year old tantrums and Disney movies on repeat and nighttime anxiety and boxes of diapers and Cheerios smashed into car seats and an eight year old who is never full.

There is joy to balance out all that goo and grindstone. But, let's be honest. Sometimes those moments dim in comparison to the daily, monotonous, melancholy, messy routine.

But as mothers, we always have hope. The hope that our never-ending efforts will one day be rewarded with children who are self-sufficient, happy, well-adjusted individuals who contribute as much, if not more, than they take.

We hang on to the hope for Mommy Paydays. That the "check won't be in the mail" forever and that we will start to reap some of the fruit from the seeds we have so diligently been sowing day after day. That we will know we are making some difference little by little.

The last couple of days I've made a few deposits...

Last night as Jeigh got on stage, stood proudly on a chair beside me, and sang her little heart out...

Ka-ching!

Today as I watched both of my older children--voluntarily!--get up in Primary and bear their precious, sweet, little testimonies for the first time ever...

Ka-ching!

When Dee sat down in his chair afterwards and announced to the primary room, "I'm so happy! I love church now!" and I knew that that happy feeling he was feeling was the Spirit...

Ka-ching!

As I watch Elle growing and changing every single day, learning how to write letters, drawing and coloring for hours, being proactive about her gluten free diet, talking about how Jesus loves her...

Ka-ching!

While I struggle with Cee keeping her diaper on, I have hope that potty training is right around the corner and that very soon we will be done with diapers forever...

Ka-ching!

Every time I walk down the hall at bedtime to find these placed on the floor, waiting for me...

Ka-ching!

It dawned on me today, that young motherhood really won't last forever, even when it seems like it will. I can't wait for the future, the freedom, and all the Mommy Paydays that are there. But I'm enjoying my little paychecks now too. I really do love being a mom. Best. job. ever.

I Love You a Bushel and a Peck!

My six year old daughter, Jeigh, and I performed in our church talent show tonight! I just can't stop grinning about it! She was absolutely brilliant! She had no fear as she sang her part beautifully. Me on the other hand...I was shaking in my boots. Literally! I always get the worst stage fright, but having her on stage with me was comforting and inspiring. And it was just so much darn fun!

This is a dream that I've had for years. I've always loved to sing and always hoped that my children would share that same love and would want to sing--privately or publicly--with me. Two of my three older kids are rather shy about public displays, but Jeigh...she's always been a "performer". She loves an audience.

I was shocked at how good she was about preparing and practicing for her first public vocal performance. I suggested the song, "A Bushel and a Peck" from Guys and Dolls, a song I used to sing with my sister and some friends when we were in college. The kids and I sing bits and pieces of it around the house from time to time. I even have "I love you a bushel and a peck" in vinyl lettering on the wall. It was such a cute little song for our first mother/daughter duet.

She approved my suggestion and we began to practice. I assumed it was going to be a little rough and she would need some coaxing, if not full out bribery. But right from the get-go, she knew what she was doing. In fact, she was hardly going to let me sing as she claimed the first, second, and most of the third verse. "Mom, you can come in at the end," she said. I redirected her a bit, claiming the second verse as my own. I mean, what mom can resist the line "You make my heart a wreck and you make my life a mess. Yes, a mess of happiness!"?

As we went over the song with our accompanist, she followed the piano so well, naturally knowing when to come in and out. She constantly directed our practice with, "Let's go over that part again" or "One more time" or "We need dance moves!" I was awe-struck at her. She hardly needed my guidance. She's a total natural at this!

When the performance arrived, she picked our outfits and asked if she could wear a little makeup. It was so much fun just getting ready for the show. And then we did it and it went marvelously! We already have our next "gig". It's just singing in our church sacrament meeting in a couple of weeks, but this is the stuff that my dreams are made of. This is one of those "mommy paydays" that balances out the sleepless nights and potty training messes. And it is totally worth it!

Of Bread and Baptism

Dee had his baptism interview with the bishop about a month ago. I was sick that day and had to miss it, but it was reported to me that the bishop had asked Dee to go home and "help his mom". He had scarfed all the bread I had made the day before so I told him he could help me make more. We chatted as we kneaded and I caught some of it on camera. Just when you think they aren't listening...

(Note: I do realize that Jesus was NOT the first to be baptized. In my head I was thinking, He was the "first" as in, He was setting the example for us to follow.)

(Other Note: I sure love this kid!)

Feeling Bad for Feeling Good

Last night I went to sleep with a warm pile of Guilt snuggled up right beside me. It smothered me and crimped my neck. It's bad breath stifled me through the night.

Have I become one of those obnoxious half-glass-full kind of people who is perpetually optimistic about life?

And at some point during the night, I realized, Yep. I have.

And I felt guilty for it.

Feeling bad for feeling good. Makes tons of sense, doesn't it?

I rolled over in bed, turning my back on the guilt, let it roll to it's own side of the bed, settle, and snore quietly through the night.

When I first started blogging, I knew how to tell a good whiny tale with my new favorite maternal outlet.

Motherhood is sooo haaard.
I don't clean my toilets.
I'm always depressed.
My kids make me crazy with messes and whining and stuff.
I hate/love/hate being a mom.

And I would get lots of comments from readers feeding my monstrous whiny-ness.

Evelyn! I love how REAL you are!
Motherhood IS hard!
You thought your day was hard? Get this...
Eat more chocolate.
It gets better.

You know what? It does get better. I'm not sure if it's because we are finishing up the baby stage and my kids are getting a little older and a little more capable. Maybe, after eight plus years, I'm finally easing into motherhood and finding I can do it with grace instead of grudge. Possible it's true that "practice makes perfect". It could even be losing 90 ish pounds has given me a new sense of confidence in myself. There could be something to getting "older and wiser". Maybe I'm actually getting some sleep at night.

Whatever it is, I feel myself changing as a mother and as a person. I no longer feel trapped and like a daily failure. I find incredible, inexpressible joy in being a stay at home mom. It's not that I love my children any more than I did before. It's that I've found huge satisfaction and peace in the work and the way of things. I've learned to let some expectations and habits go. My home is truly where my heart is and I love creating a place of nurturing for my children. My hobbies have adapted to include things like food storage, interior design, and tutoring. I am never happier than when my whole family is home, our home is comfortable (not necessarily sparkling clean, but not cluttered and chaotic), there is good food on the table, good music playing in the background, and good things happening.

This doesn't mean that I don't ever yell at my kids. Or that my home doesn't get "Hoarders"-worthy every now and then. Or that I don't burn dinner. Or that I spring out of bed with a smile every morning. Or that my children are perfectly behaved in public. Or that my husband doesn't find me slightly neurotic. Or that I don't blow the budget. Or that I don't eat chocolate behind the locked bedroom door.

I'm not sure exactly what it means. Maybe when I'm a grandma, then I'll be able to pinpoint for you why life is so good and why it seems to be so much easier to find happiness in the simplest of things these days.

But right now that guilt pokes at me and accuses me of coming across as sappy, cheesy, or fake.  When I write things whether on here or on Facebook, I am trying to be real. I want to record and share these awesome things that are happening in our life. Some days I am trying to be optimistic and see the good in things even when it doesn't feel so good.

For some stupid reason I still care what others think of me and that I possibly annoy them with my blooming satisfaction. I worry that they assume I have a perfect life or that I think I have a perfect life or that I want people to think I have a perfect life.

It bothers me that I have a few friends that only seem to comment or "like" the things I write when I'm complaining about something distressing. Honestly, it makes me wonder if they are happy to see me in my unhappy moments.

It aggravates me that I even waste the emotion on this; that I feel guilty for expressing "too much" joy and then that I feel guilty for feeling guilty. It's all a tad ridiculous, no?

"Men are that they might have joy." (2 Nephi 2:25)

We are here on this earth to be happy and to strive to be perfect like the Savior. If I am working my way towards that then I must be doing something right. And no I didn't just say I was perfect or even perfectly happy. I'm just working on getting there.

I guess what I'm trying to say in my very imperfect and meandering way is that though I'm not ready to kick Guilt out into the cold, it may just have to stay in the guest room in the basement tonight.

We Need More Ice Cream!

Tonight after dinner I let loose a bit and dished up ice cream for all the kids.

(Well, all except Dee. He's allergic to milk. I offered him his usual substitute popsicle but he vetoed it for celery and peanut butter. Celery and peanut butter instead of popsicles?! Where did I go wrong?!?)

We don't usually indulge in ice cream; in fact, I try to keep all treats to a minimum. And let me just stop you cold before you make silly assumptions about me being such a fabulous mom who is working so hard to instill healthy habits in her little ones.

Truth: I WILL EAT ALL OF IT if it is in the house. That's it. There's the reality.

But tonight was a treat. Dad's out of town. It's a Thursday night. The ice cream bucket is almost empty and taking up lots of space in the freezer. Why not? "Live and let lick" I say!

As my four little ones sat and slurped their ice cream--and celery?!--the conversation began to flow. And before three little bowls of ice cream and one bowl of peanut butter were gone, we had covered, and I believe in this order:

*where babies come from
*the Plan of Happiness
*Heavenly Father's omnipotent, yet very real and personal awareness of every single person and thing on this earth. (Jeigh pointed out that he even knows when we are having "attitudes". Dang straight he knows!)
*100+500=600
*Free Agency and why God allows people to do bad things
*What exactly "ants on a log" means
and...
*If someone chose to eat Elle she would taste like "little girl" and not "ant"

Who says junk food is all junk? I think I'm adding ice cream on to my weekly grocery list.

I Miss Blogging

And I might even be brazen enough to say blogging misses me.

It was one thing I was semi-good at and something that brought me a lot of joy. So why is it so dang hard to get to these days?

As each of my babies have made their grand entrance into the world, I have had to let go of something that was important to me. The time and effort of taking care of a new little one is nothing menial and something's gotta give. I can hardly resent my children. They, of course, are my number one priority. It's just the way of things.

With my first baby, Dee, it was scrapbooking.
With the second, Jeigh, it was my job as an Emergency Department Tech.
With Elle, it was card making.
And with Cee...blogging.

My hope is one day, some of those things will return to my daily life as my kiddos get a little older and more capable of doing things for themselves. For now, I'll grab my moments where I can get them.

So, I'm not here to make any grandiose promises that "I'm baaaack!". Let's just say, today was a good day because I got a few minutes to myself to indulge again in something I love.

Speaking of my day...It's been a productive one and I just want to record what happened so that on my not-so-productive days I can remember what it is to feel accomplished as a mom of four kids ages 8 and under.

6:45 am: Wakeup with Cee
Change and cuddle with Cee
7:00 am: Make sure kids are up and going
Prayers
Read scriptures
Eat breakfast
Check email and Facebook
Clean up sugar bowl explosion (Thank you Cee!)
Vacuum
Nag incessantly 
8:00: Take big kids to school
Bathe Cee
Clean bathrooms
Sanitize light switches, door knobs, and other surfaces
Get Elle ready for preschool
9:00: Send Elle off to preschool
Grind wheat and make bread
9:45: Run 4 miles on treadmill while catching up on "The Office"
11:00: Start second batch of bread
Bake first batch
Shower, dress, makeup
Phone call with sister
12:15: Out the door to deliver "thank you" bread and jam to someone who was an answer to a prayer
Pick up Elle from preschool/dance
12:30: Drop off dry cleaning
Share a Cafe Rio Wednesday Special (Chicken Tostadas!) with my little ladies 
Library drop-off and pick-up
1:15: Home again, jiggety, jig
Cee down for nap
Finish second batch of bread
SIT!!!
Plan, plan, plan
Read
Change and wash wet crib sheets
Comfort crying Cee
3:00: Pick up kids from school
Snack time
3:30: BLOG!
4:00: Homework
5:00: Make dinner
5:30: Eat dinner
5:45: Clean up dinner
6:15: Jeigh piano practice
6:45: Bath night
7:15: Bed time
Family scripture study
Reading
Prayers
Bedtime for four kiddos! 
8:15: Avoid thinking about No Bake Cookies and other chocolaty transgressions
9:00: Bed
Reading, Emails, Facebook, Mystery Manor
Sleep

Rinse, repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat...

Life is good!

Mad about Mondays

Crestfallen, Joe walked into our living room. It was Sunday evening. The end of another glorious weekend of General Conference, candy corn hillbilly teeth, marked off To Do lists, homemade stew, stolen naps, and early morning trail running.

"I don't want to go back to work tomorrow", he whined.

Patting him on the shoulder, I agreed. I didn't want to let him go back to work either. What a drag Mondays are...for the working father and the school kids.

But for the Stay at Home Mom...Mondays are glorious!

I remember feeling that pit-in-stomach dread when I was younger and had responsibilities and obligations to teachers, professors, and employers. Vaguely. That Monday morning repulsion faded long ago with the absence of deadlines and clock-ins.

No boss breaths down my neck asking for "the Johnson file".

The only ones breathing down my neck are the little ones begging for a 9 am "Snack, Mama! SNACK!!"

In the truest sense I suppose my children are my boss. And these supervisors are more whiny, critical, and demanding than most. But they're also pretty flexible and laid back. When I say, "Let's skip the house work today and play Barbies instead ", they don't mind. When we have popcorn for dinner instead of the chicken, vegetables, and potatoes that was on the meal plan, they don't complain. When one of them is sick or hurt, they'd much rather I drop everything and cuddle. Productivity be darned.

I don't mean to agitate the working moms out there, but I can't help feeling like I've hit the jackpot here. If I want to wear pajamas until noon, change into my workout clothes to exercise, shower, and then change back into a second set of pajamas...I can. If I want to interrupt my housework to take thirty pictures of a jar casting shadows on the counter top just because I think it's beautiful...I can. If I want chocolate chip cookies for lunch...then by golly I WILL have chocolate chip cookies for lunch! As long as I share of course.

Not that being a stay at home is all cookies and comfort. It can be pretty tough sometimes. The hours are long and never ending. The chores and chaos are monotonous and relentless. Many days it is too easy to feel insignificant or trapped. Sometimes I feel tremendously guilty that I'm not giving a "real" contribution to our household or world. Every now and then, I ache to return to school and the work force for the socialization, for the paycheck, or for the change of pace.

When I was a kid, my mom had a quote hanging on the wall that I read every morning as I slammed down breakfast in my rush to get out the door to school.

“The greatest work we will ever do will be within the walls of our home.”  ~Harold B. Lee

I read it over and over again until it was ingrained on my brain, but it wasn't imprinted on my heart until I was a mom. I believe my mom had it there for her own sake and sanity. Something to remind her to keep her head up in the midst of the melancholy and the maelstrom and the mediocrity.

Stay at home motherhood may not be charming every day, but today I am grateful for it and the happiness it brings me. I know that I am never as happy as when I am in my own home, working to keep it clean and comfortable, striving to be patient and loving with my children, helping them to do homework or get dressed. I feel incredible joy when my family is well-fed, my home is organized, pictures of a happy family hang on the walls, laughter and good music ring through the rooms, and love abounds from the rafters.

And if I get to wear pajamas while doing all that...Even better.

Bring it on Monday!

Joy Toy Tuesday

For the past seven years I have noticed something about my home.

There are toys...E V E R Y W H E R E.

And those toys must be breeding like little bunnies because some days I wonder if they are going to take over the house. Typically it irritates me to have the mess of toys around the house but every now and then I find one placed just so that I can't help but laugh and remember just why I love being a mom so much.

Enter my new meme: Joy Toy Tuesday. Every so often I want to share a picture of the toy that was placed ever so carefully such that it reminded me just why being a mom is such a hilarious endeavor.

Conference meeting in my office. Stat.
We'll be discussing the downward trend of glitter, Barbie segregation, and how to cut the risk of snarly manes. 

You Can't Judge a Mom by Her Wardrobe

My wall clock tells me that it is currently 1:28 pm.

My wardrobe tends to disagree.

You see, I'm still wearing my pajamas. Purple ones with pine trees of white, grey, and varying shades of pink in case you wanted a visual.

Before you have the chance to make any assumptions about how my Monday has been going let me tell you this. Just because I'm still wearing my pajamas at 1:28 in the afternoon does not mean I am lazy.

wake up at 6:30 am
read scriptures and say prayers
wash dishes
feed kids
dress kids
clean kids
shove kids out door
drive kids to school
shove kids out door
clean house
gather laundry
begin washing mountain of laundry whilst channeling inner Reverend Mother (♪♫ Climb every mountain... ♪♫)
check bank account
take garbage out
check mail box
freelance writing work
switch laundry (♫♪ Ford every stream...)
feed baby
put baby down for nap
change bedding
pick up kindergartner
chase 3 year old out of bathroom, out of cupboards, out of laundry room, out of bathroom AGAIN
make lunch
eat lunch
feed lunch to children
clean up lunch
homework
sight words practice
more laundry (♪♫ Follow every rainbow... ♫♪)
feed baby again

Lazy? Not even close.

You may have caught on by now that I'm a mom. And as a mom sporting pajamas of whatever shade or pattern means I have been doing anything BUT watching soaps and eating bon bons.

I have simply been so busy that I have not had the time to get dressed. So neener neener Monday.

And yes I totally wore my pajamas as I dropped children off at school this morning. And seeing as how I still have them on at 1:28 pm and my kindergartner's pick up time is at 11:15 am...Well, you do the math. Maybe my first grader will be lucky enough to see me in a pair of jeans before 3 pm.

And don't worry about the kids. The kids are too young to be scarred for life by their half dressed mother.

I hope.

Maybe I ought to start adding "GET DRESSED" on to my to do list. Then it would get done like everything else I've been doing around here.

Oh! Looks like it's time to add another load to the washer.

♪♫ 'TIL...YOU...FIND...YOUR...DREAM! ♫♪

Happy Monday ya'll!

P.S. Make sure to come back tomorrow! The Great and Random Cannwin and I are swapping blogs for the day. You don't want to miss this!

Dear Hanging by a Silver Lining Blog

It is 9:26 pm.

I have been trying to spend some time with you all day.

You were even on my list of things to do today.

Right below "write missionary brother" and right above "eat healthy".

I got the brother written and I tried to eat healthy and here I am spending a few moments with you.

See. You are important to me.

Even more important than eating healthy?

Meh.

Let's just say easier to do than eating healthy. (And yes! Chocolate covered strawberries do count as a healthy snack. Hello! Fresh fruit! Smothered in chocolate!)

Anyway.

I just put four little people to bed.

Yep.

At 9:26 pm.

On a school night.

But I made sure those four little people got kisses, hugs, piano practice, homework, family time, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, chocolate covered strawberries, and lots of love before their sweet little heads ever hit the pillow.

Doing all that all day has me plum worn out.

Sorry poor little neglected blog.

You're going to have to wait until tomorrow. I will put you on my to do list again.

Right above "exercise" and right below "make sure to do all you can to be the best mama and wifey you can today".

A girl has to have some priorities, ya' know?

Love,
Me

P.S. This song is my current favorite. It makes me wish I had a really tall building, a really big voice, and some really big chops to sing it at the top of my lungs to the world.

The Invisible Mother

I really loath forwarded emails. Really. Utterly. Loath.

But.

My mom sent this forwarded email to me today and I couldn't help but share it with all you Invisible Mothers out there. Yes...YOU!

And you!

Oh and you too...Yea, you. The one sporting the messy ponytail and "furry" teeth with macaroni and cheese residue smeared on your sleeve, baby barf on the other, and not a stitch of makeup on. YOU!

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible. The Invisible Mom.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! ‘Can you fix this?’, ‘Can you tie this?’, ‘Can you open this?’

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

Some days I'm a crystal ball; 'Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music, and literature - but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.

I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it. And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he'd say, 'You're gonna love it there...'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.

Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know... I just did.
The Will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.
To all the wonderful mothers out there!! God bless and keep you.

"How Do You Replace a Mother?"

(Image found in Google Images)

Do you remember when I mentioned not too long ago that Joe's cousin's wife passed away very unexpectedly?

An autopsy was done and even though all the test results are back, there is no obvious reason why a perfectly healthy, happy 31 year old mother of two would pass away so suddenly.

I hardly knew Zoe, but I sure can't stop thinking about her and even more about the little ones and husband she left behind. I have so many thoughts and emotions circling around this brain of mine, but Joe's cousin, Lori Conger said it better than I ever could on her blog today.

Can I just direct you over THERE today?

I hope you take the time to read it. It's not just about the tragic loss of this woman, but how invaluable each and every mother is. Beautifully written. Thank you, Lori.

Confessions of a REAL Mom

I know it's proper to put your best self forward for people to see, especially in the blog world, but can I just be real for a minute?

My house is absolutely trashed. Don't even try to make me feel better by telling me "but you're moving; it's okay". No it's not. It's gross. The sink...umm...make that sinkS are overflowing with dishes. The floor was swept two days ago, but could desperately use another sweeping and honestly I can't even remember the last time it was mopped.


There are toys and clothes and chaos strewn everywhere. Probably a few old apple cores too, thanks to Dee's bad habit of just tossing them aside when he's done eating his green apples. Not a single laundry basket is full, but I think that's probably because the clothes never made it into the basket in the first place, NOT because of my stellar laundering habits.

My to-do list is overflowing. Strike that. I have so much to do I don't even want to write it down. So as of this moment, there is no literal to-do list. Just the one in my very muddled, overflowing brain.

As I type this I hear Jeigh screaming dramatically at the top of her lungs. I'm pretty sure Dee just hit her with a swimming flipper. Yep. That was the weapon of choice this time. She is now crying for "MAMA!" at the top of her lungs and I imagine the neighbors are once again thinking "Is now the time I call CPS?" Oh, the crying stopped. Looks like Jeigh might live. Hooray!

And it's awfully quiet now...I wonder where Elle is. Are the bathroom doors closed? I sure hope so.

Hmm, let's see what else I can be real about. Oh yeah, I filled out my fat pants quite nicely today. And when I say nicely...I think you know what I mean. That's okay. I think I have a few chocolate-covered raisins hiding in the pantry somewhere to ease my suffering.

I miss my husband a lot, but honestly I'm getting rather irritated hearing him say over the phone how bored he is and how quiet it is without us. I wonder what that's like. Sounds nice.

So, now that I've been real, and sometimes it is all too real...Can I be real in another way?

This morning I woke up to the sounds of Dee quietly "reading" to himself while he sat in his room waiting for the rest of us to wake up. I rolled over to the sounds of Jeigh rustling around in the bed beside me. I fell asleep again and woke up again to the sight of Dee and Jeigh laying next to me, hugging each other and telling each other how much they loved each other and what good brother and sister they were. I laid there hoping they didn't see me awake, just watching and hoping that friendship lasts through the ages.


I got up to the sounds of Elle calling from her crib. When I lifted her out of her bed, she curled up in my arms and snuggled in. As soon as I changed her and set her down she got one of her baby dolls and tenderly cradled it.

We sat and watched Dee and Jeigh play dress-up for a while. Their little imaginations swept them far from the small bedroom we were in. Jeigh sang e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g and I feel sure she is going to be an Opera star someday.


Dee walked around in swimming flippers most of the morning (yes, the very same ones that were used for violence) and pretended he was a penguin, a dragon, an explorer. One day, his curious nature will lead him far from me.


I walked upstairs when it was "too quiet" and watched Elle from hiding as she played with a little farm set with a big, bright blue, dress-up hat tilted on her head. She played in comfortable silence, gently moving her toys, tender and sweet, content to be playing alone. What will this little old soul become one day? A master gardener/farmer? A careful and attentive nurse? A surgeon? A writer? A sweet and loving little mother?


Sure, my house is a disaster. My schedule is a war-zone. My pant-size is a national crisis. But I am going to forget all that and just enjoy what I am seeing this morning. My children. While they are still children.