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.

Thrift Store Thoughts

I've been a busy little bee working to get my house in shape for the holidays. For the first time ever, we're having Thanksgiving and Christmas at our place this year. I'm so excited to share my home with all of our family, but only if I can get it looking presentable.

Through my cleaning and dejunking I collected several bags full of things to donate to our local D.I. (Deseret Industries). Today I made the drive over there with every intention of unloading some extra clutter. I handed over about half a dozen garbage bags, drove the car around the back, and found myself parking in the front. Let's just take a look inside, shall we?

I can't resist thrift store shopping. There's something exhilarating about finding a treasure in the trash heap. Something enticing about giving discarded items a second chance to be loved, used, and appreciated. Today we found several toys in spectacular condition! I know Christmas is right around the corner but I just couldn't resist.

I purchased all of these and a few other items for about $15! With the help of some Lysol disinfectant wipes they are as good as new. In fact, if my children hadn't been right by my side finding these goodies with me, I could have used a few of these as Christmas gifts.

Only...when it really comes down to it...I just can't do it.

Used thrift store goods as Christmas presents???

I don't know. I can see the practicality and thriftiness in it. I know in a ever declining economy this would be a great way to make Christmas happen. But I just can't do it. It just seems so tacky to me. So...brutal. I can just picture it now: My children telling their therapists about their used Christmas gifts and how the downward spiral was perpetuated by the realization that they just weren't good enough for "new". And while I don't believe that my children are entitled to lots of big, expensive toys, I just don't think I could look them in the eye on Christmas morning knowing they just opened up someone else's "junk".

And for the record, I don't mean to sound like a snob either. While I get fidgety about gifting from the thrift store I certainly have no qualms about buying toys, clothes, dishes, and other goods for my self and my family from the thrift store year round.

I'm curious to hear what others think about this. Do you or would you buy thrift store items to give as gifts? Whether for children or adults? And in turn, what would you think if someone gave you a thrift store item as a gift? Like a wrapped "Here! I thought of you!" gift?

Don't be shy. Give it to me straight.

schizo

Remember when you were little and your mom was yelling at you for taking shortcuts on your chores or lying about watching TV before your homework was done or putting a worm in your little brother's mouth?

Remember how the phone would ring while she was all red-faced and yelling?

Remember how she could stop mid-lecture and answer with a cheery little "Hello!"?

I remember.

And I remember resenting my mom for that. I remember thinking how phony she was answering the phone and being all friendly and chatty and polite when she was being "like so totally unfair" just a minute ago. (Because that's exactly how I talked when I was younger... *shakes head*)

I also remember how I vowed to NEVER do that.

Ha!

I totally do it now.

Isn't it funny how we change ourselves according to the situation we are in?

I would hope that I am honest. That I am consistent. That I am the same person no matter who I am talking on the phone with or hanging out with or chatting online with.

"To thine own self be true."

But I'm not.

I know I change for people.

I know I speak quieter and more formally with the older ladies at church than I do with a group of my friends. All loud and obnoxious, maybe even a bit off-colored.

I know my writing takes on a different tone when I'm venting to my mommy group on Facebook than when I'm writing to my family.

We may have graduated from high school, but we all do this, right?

We change ourselves, maybe mute or amplify parts of our personalities, according to who we are with at the time.

I observe bloggers doing this all the time in their post comments. You see a blogger that leaves the sweetest, nicest comment on one blog, but leaves the wankiest comments on another blog.

(Is wanky even a word? Maybe I better make sure I understand what that means before I use it. It just sounds "right" right there. Attention: Make up your own definition for "wanky".)

I'll be frank...When I see other bloggers do this, it irritates me.

Wanna know what irritates me more?

It really irritates me that I am tempted to rough up or prettify my comments according to whose blog I am commenting on and probably have actually done so on more than one occasion.

(Tell me I'm not the only one who does this.)

Someday, my goal is to be the same person no matter where I am. I suppose that goal will be achievable when I a) accomplish one of my Thirty goals in not caring what anyone but God and myself thinks about me and b) become happy and content with who I am.

*wince* Tough order.

One of the things I love/hate about blogging is that you never know who is reading. Whatever I post on here might be read by my best friend, my new friend, my neighbor, the youth I used to teach in church, my uncle, an ex-friend, my mom, an old boy friend, a stranger in Australia, who knows.

I'm always shocked when I visit my hometown and am approached by someone I haven't seen or talked to in years and they say something like "I love your blog! I read it all the time."

Honestly, my first reaction to this is not to be flattered, but to be afraid.

You do??? Did I write something stupid or offensive or too revealing or pathetic or mean or sappy or too religious or not enough religious or too sarcastic or...or...or...???

Of course once I work my way past those few frantic moments, then I blush a bit with pure happiness that someone is actually reading my little ol' blog.

I hope they read because here is where I am ME.

I hope that I consistently write in Evelyn-ese. That what I say on here is what I would say to you in person (if I could only speak as well as I write) whether we were at church or at a party or at the grocery store bumping into each other.

So...Do you think you are a blog schizo or a Stable Mable???

Lend me your thoughts. Me, Myself, and I would love to read them!

Missing My Mojo

When I was a teenager I regularly visited the same hair stylist to get my hair cut and styled. She was awesome! I could count on her to do exactly what I wanted if not better every single time.

And then she got pregnant. And something changed.

It started to become a game of hit and miss when I went in to get my routine hair cut. And as most of us are rather partial to what is going on on top of our heads, I wasn't game for Russian Roulette: Version Hair.

Back then I couldn't understand what had changed her hair cutting ability so drastically.

Now I get it.

You know what it was? It was those dang pregnancy hormones sucking the life out of her mojo.

My mojo is at an all time low. I think I kind of remember being a creative and funny blogger once upon a time. I believe I also enjoyed delving into the creative process and power of writing about more emotional and tender things too. On top of that, I am under the slight impression that I used to be a kind and generous sort as well.

Now with pregnancy hormones raging at an all time high, I feel like an ugly bloated monster of irritation, crankiness, and moot points with little to offer anyone.

Sure there are procreative powers at work in this bulging belly here, but GONE are the creative powers from my muddled mind up here. GONE is the energy and ambition to be...well, nice and tolerant and companionable. GONE is the me I like.

There are so many pretty pretty posts that I have been itching to write and express and share with the world, but once I sit down to write and surrender those precious particles to my keyboard, I am bombarded with...static.

What happened to me??? What happened to my mojo?

That dang brain-sucking, life-giving placenta.

I just hope that once it exits the premises, the damage won't be permanent.

Sadly, my hair dresser never recovered from its effects. Will I share the same fate?

The Little Mother That Could

All morning I have been struggling to come up with anything to post here today. I finally conceded that it would be a no blog post kind of day. No big deal. I just didn't have the energy or mentality to think of anything creative or original or productive or humorous. Not because of a bad mood...just a too-tired mood.

I picked up Jeigh from preschool and before we left, my girls each checked out a book from the preschool library (basically a book shelf crammed with old discarded books). When I saw the book that Elle had picked, my heart cheered a bit.


The book was obviously aged and I loved that it was. This was a book my mother read to me when I was little. I remembered the pictures and the words so vividly as it was one she read to us often. It had been burned into my memories. I had just forgotten it had been stashed away in my memory until I saw the book in my two-year-old's hands.

We left the school and needing to be busy for the forty minutes in between pick up time for Jeigh and pick up time for Dee, we drove to a convenience store. With the way I had been feeling all morning, I felt the need for a little liquid courage to get through the rest of the day. Liquid courage meaning a tall, cold, fountain Dr. Pepper.

We drove back to the school and waited for the last bell of the day, sipping on our fountain drinks, hoping the caffeine would do the trick to shake me from my sluggish funk. I looked on the dash and saw the book. What a perfect time to sneak some of our reading minutes in. So I opened the cover and began to read.

As I read the words that were so familiar to my mind, I began to think this book could be just the trick for teaching my children that they can do hard things. Like picking up their backpacks and coats off the floor or eating onions or staying away from the tempting soap dispenser. Hard things like that.

But as I read the words I think I can-I think I can-I think I can my voice started to quiver and the words blurred as my eyes filled with tears. I hadn't remembered this book being a sad story...

I realized quite suddenly and with some shock it was me who needed the lesson. So many days, like today I feel...exhaustion. Most days, especially with pregnancy, I feel physically exhausted. Many days it's mental exhaustion that gets me. A lot of days I feel emotionally exhausted or spiritually exhausted. I find myself thinking and even verbalizing I can't do this!

I just can't. It's too much. I'm too tired. I can't do it right so why even try? What is the point?

I feel overwhelmed and under-qualified. I get bogged down with anger or sadness or despair. And my load might as well be a train that needs to be pulled over a hill.

As childish and simple as it sounds, I realized I need to be like the Little Blue Engine and hitch myself to my load.

She tugged and pulled and pulled and tugged and slowly, slowly, slowly they started off...

Puff, puff, chug, chug, went the Little Blue Engine.

"I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can."

Up, up, up. Faster and faster and faster and faster the little engine climbed until I last they reached the top of the mountains.


I can do hard things.

Even when I don't think I can.

I can mother these three, almost four children like no one else can. I can tackle that project (or two) I have been putting off. I can forgive others for heart breaks they have caused. I can approach each day with purpose and passion.

I can push and pull and tug and I may go slowly, slowly, slowly at first but at least I am trying and moving forward.

Who knew a long forgotten children's book could put more pep in my step than 20 oz of caffeine?

Now, how to not forget this revelation I had today... Think Jeigh's preschool teacher would mind if I hung onto this book, just so I have a daily reminder???

Putting My Club Foot Forward

You know how we all write about "those" bloggers???

You know the ones... The popular ones with beautiful blog layouts, bigger-than-life pictures, droves of followers, fancy schmancy ideas, and loads of time on their hands which they fill by spending ridiculous amounts of quality time with their perfectly dressed and groomed children, building Eiffel Tower replicas out of popsicle sticks or single-handedly saving a third-world village through a handmade headband fundraiser. That or working out and running 15 miles every morning to maintain that pre-baby body for their super hot, super successful "DH", or skillfully refurbishing every piece of wood, fabric, or metal within a 100 mile-radius.

Those ones.

Well, if you've read much of my blog, you know I am not one of "those" bloggers. Where they like to put their best self on screen, I go for a different technique.

If I tried to put my best foot forward this would be the most boring blog on the planet. I could see it going something like this...

"Look, look 13 followers! I did the laundry today!"


Or "Hey! Comment on how I finally got those dishes washed AND put away! Woohoo!"
Or maybe, I would tell you how awesome I was to get this cupboard cleaned, all the while knowing those papers simply transplanted to one big fat laundry basket to be sifted through "later". But I would NEVER tell you that because I am the "perfect" housewife and mother, remember? At least that's what my blog would tell you.
Or I would tell you how I bathe the kids twice a week or how everyone's teeth are brushed or how we {try to} say prayers every day or how perfect my children are.

So. Not. Interesting.

It's so much funnier to see the chaos, the drama, the big fat FAIL, don't you think? That's because I assume you are laughing WITH me, not AT me. Which you are, right? RIGHT?! Besides, sometimes your comments show that you RELATE. You mean you live real lives too???

I love telling you about all the spilled milks and the public nudities and the maniacal neighbor girls. Plus, who wants to hear their own horn tootin' away all the time? Booooorrrring.

And you do get that I tend to be sarcastic on here sometimes, right? Example: my husband are NOT even close to divorce over the $100 I spent at DI. On the contrary, I think he was grateful for all the back-to-school clothes I found. I know sarcasm doesn't translate so well onscreen sometimes, but honestly, in real life, I am not such a failure. Not always.

I don't feel the need to post it on here every day, but TODAY, I want to say:

I mess up a lot and do so many stupid things. I can be lazy and grouchy.

BUT! BUT!

I am a good person. I am a good wife. I am a good mom. I do good things.

Like what you say? Well...

I read to my kids.
I take them to the library.
I work to expose my children to different events and cultures and foods.
I take them to the park at least once a week, if not more.
I try new recipes.
I wash bed sheets often.
I teach those kids to say thank you and please.
I help them make thank you notes when they receive gifts.
I don't let them watch Nickelodeon or Cartoon Network.
I kiss my husband everyday.
I give breastfeeding a good solid 9 months before calling it quits.
I don't let my kids eat tons of junk.
I never forget to feed my kids. (Now, as for my husband...)
I keep taking three irreverent children to church each week by myself because I know it's the right thing to do.
I don't let my kids listen to Lady Gaga. (So what if they know the words to "Single Ladies"?!)
I don't smoke, drink, or do drugs in front of my kids. (Do I need to clarify I don't do it not in front of them either?)
I teach my kids how to fold their clothes, put their dishes in the sink, wash their hands, and flush the toilet.
I enlist their aid in cleaning house.
I make them dress themselves.
I take care of the paperwork and bills.
I try to express to my husband OFTEN how grateful I am for his hard work at his job.
I tell my kids I love them EVERY day.
I teach my children that all people are Children of God and deserve to be loved and respected.

What good do YOU do?

It's not a contest. It's not arrogance. It's not something I'm likely to repeat much. It's just a Monday morning proclamation that behind this cranky, crusty, snarky, lazy, failing blog front there is a mom/wife/girl who is TRYING to do some good in the world.

How about you? Come on. Don't be shy! I know you do good things too! Tell us all about it!

simple

I haven't been sleeping well lately. Lately meaning: years. (Thanks again Dad for the inherited case of insomnia.) When I wake up my brain immediately clicks on, ready to tackle issues. Issues I try to ignore during the day.

Issues like how we watch way too much TV, the kids in one room and me in another. I think it may be time to cancel our satellite service.

Issues like how we aren't reading books in spite of the pile from the library that is collecting dust on the shelf.

Issues like what a crummy housekeeper I am.

Issues like how pathetic my personal prayers and scripture study have been. Too busy watching TV I suppose.

Issues like saving for retirement and losing weight and trying new recipes and working harder to build better relationships with family and friends and cleaning that junk heap of a room and the End of Days and natural child birth and getting more involved in politics and being nicer to the neighbor kids and working harder to be a better Primary teacher and this and that and then some more of those...

And then I get overwhelmed and fall back asleep in a hopeless mess.

I have been having a difficult time keeping up in the blogging world (have you noticed?), partly because of my crummy, unbearably slow, irritatingly unreliable, terrible, no-good internet service and partly because of my level of ambition. I keep wondering...when this baby comes, is the effort and energy and time spent on the baby going to completely replace my blogging? And is that how it should be?

'Tis time to simplify I think. Now to have the chops to do it...