love and thanks

Baby Chewbacca (named by CJ) has been growing in my stomach for over twelve weeks.  Twelve incredibly challenging weeks with consistent nausea, black outs, and complete exhaustion.

It is always a sacrifice to make a baby.

But, never before, have I been so physically challenged.

I haven't announced the pregnancy to the world because the overwhelming sickness worries me.  I have learned to never check the internet for pregnancy related information because I always find information that scares the crap out of me.  Apparently overwhelming sickness can relate to a non-viable pregnancy, multiple babies, and/or a girl.
 
 I am just hoping to for ten fingers and ten toes and lunch today. 

I kept the information quiet for a long time.  My mom made multiple weekly visits, mopped my floors, and entertained my kids.  Nate has been super amazing with breakfast routines, packing lunches, homework help, and holding everything together.  My sister-in-laws have called regularly to check on me, run errands for me, bring my family food, and make emergency visits to my house when the world was spinning very fast and very black.  My brother brings me juice (the only fluid I could keep down for a long time) and offers to bring food on a regular basis.

Holy Moly.
I feel spoiled and excited and grateful because this soon-to-be-baby and I are very loved.

Christmas break ended and scouting and volunteering and speech therapy started up once again.  Too dizzy to drive, friends picked up scouting responsibilities and kids and my mom began volunteering.  I started telling close friends about the pregnancy... I made the mistake of pulling away from friends when overwhelmed with pregnancy in the past, and I didn't want to make that mistake again.

I am so grateful for the support I have received.

Chicken noodle soup with snacks for my kids showed up at my house one day.  My neighbors have shoveled my walks on multiple occasions when Nate has left before the sun rises and returns when the kids are in bed.  Pizza with drinks and cookies showed up at my house last night. Text message check-ins.  Listening ears.  And love... lots of love.

Life is beginning to maybe become a little bit more manageable.  I ate breakfast today and was able to keep it down and the light-headed-ness has been gone for almost ten hours - yeah!  But despite the hardness, it is always hard for me to receive help from others.  It makes me feel anxious and guilty.  Because deep down I still believe that I should be able to do it all by myself.  I am grateful for the people that lovingly teach me it is okay to lean on them.

I had not planned to blog about this... but the more I have thought about it, the more I wanted/needed to.  So many people have helped me with my babies before and after birth and I am beyond grateful to them.  I am grateful for my friends in Texas that answered every pregnancy related question, brought me food, visited me in the hospital, and held my baby with love.  Caleb and Colton were received with love in a very similar manner in Colorado.  Every one of my babies has been born into an environment rich in love.  And this soon-to-be baby is no exception.

Thank you to each of you for holding my hand and loving me. Thank you to those of you who have physically supported my family with food and babysitting and help.  I am beyond grateful for the individuals who have helped me make and love and sustain my babies.  Your love leaves me breathless with gratitude.

agency and pride

There are moments as a mother - when you feel nothing but absolute pride for your child.
These moments come often, and I wish I could freeze them and carry them around with me in my pocket.

Because - holy moly - I love my kids.
And I am beyond proud of their personalities, characteristics, and desires.

Conner gave a talk in church on Sunday.
A two-minute-talk about agency or the ability to choose between good and bad.

And for the first time, he didn't want help.
Dad and I were firmly instructed to stay seated on the back row of the primary room.

Conner did fabulous standing up there all on his own.
He read every word correctly and clearly.

It took everything I had to keep me from picking that child up and kissing him all over the face when he was done.
The best part?  I could tell that he was proud of himself too.

I wasn't able to freeze the moment, but I have the transcript to his talk and his Lego prop.
And I am holding onto the items, tucking the memory in my pocket, and expressing gratitude for the little man my boy is becoming.
  

Agency

by Conner

"This is one of my favorite Lego ships. When I opened the box for the first time with my dad, there were lots of little pieces that needed to be put together to make the ship. I guess I could have made the choice to try to build the ship without any instructions, but I think the ship wouldn’t have turned out right. My dad is smart and he taught me how to read the instructions.

Just like the Lego instructions, Heavenly Father has given us instructions to create a happy life. His instructions are found in the scriptures and voice of the prophet. We have agency or the choice to choose whether or not we will listen and obey. But I think it would be hard to know how to build a happy life without instructions or a plan… just like the Lego ship.

Heavenly Father is wise and He loves us very much. I want to follow the instructions he has given me. I am grateful that Heavenly Father has blessed me with instructions to follow so I can build a happy life. I am grateful for my agency and the ability I have to choose the right."

permanent markers in the minivan?

Permanent markers in the minivan are never a good idea unless they are used by an over-excited four-year-old to permanently demonstrate just how happy preschool made him today on the drive home.  

I have a feeling that smile is going to be on his face for a very, very, long time.

winter explorations

It takes me three billions hours to get three kids ready to play in the snow for ten minutes.
And a whole lot of patience.
And it is cold outside.
Very cold.
 
As a result, my kids have played in the snow (with me) twice this entire winter.
And I am totally okay with that.
Preschool and first graders have outside recess.
Who says I have to do everything?

Until CJ started begging for some outside time.
With big brothers gone at school, we bravely buttoned up our coats and boots.
CJ found his snow hat and we were ready to go.
Prep time less than twenty minutes.

He rode his bike for thirty whole seconds.

Down the driveway to the street.

Dump trucked some snow for ten.

And then mowed the lawn.
Nate will be so happy that his yard work is done.

Pink cheeks and frozen hands demanded inside warmth.
After two minutes of outside fun,
we went back inside.
And I am totally okay with that.

Cuddled together with blankets and books,
we watched the snow fall outside the window.
Rosy cheeks with star wars figures and pretzel crumbs on my lap?
Best day of winter snow exploration...ever.

because painting the fireplace with the stomach bug makes perfect sense...

Sometimes I do things that make no sense.

Like utilizing precious refrigerator space for peanut butter, misplacing my cell phone on a daily basis, and painting the fireplace when the entire family is sick with the stomach bug.

Maybe not a good idea.... but at least we got the job done.

We moved into our new/older home over a year ago and I have silently hated the main room fireplace the entire time.  I bought black heat resistant paint to paint the brass metal... but the paint didn't stick.

I dreamed about ripping out the brick and starting over.
Searched pinterest for ideas on how to cover it and finally found the solution one late Sunday night after a day of high quality bonding with the stomach bug.

The project couldn't wait.

And I am excited to present the before and after pictures.

Before:

 
 
After:



I am happy to report that no one lost their lunch on the fireplace and that the amazing Nathan painted the entire fireplace while I sat on the floor attempting to paint with a large pot hugged in between my legs. I also learned that high heat paint does stick to fireplace metal without rigorous sanding... you just have to shake the can of paint really well and have the appropriate paint brush.  I learn something new every day. 

Maybe painting the fireplace with the stomach bug isn't such a bad idea after all...

more shaving cream less bath

Bath time - in my opinion - shouldn't always be about getting clean.

It is about creative play,

smiles,

and messy hands.

Because ultimately, we will all be in need of a good clean again tomorrow.

But, bath time smiles and laughter?

They always make the day brighter and demand the attention of the emperor.  More shaving cream! Less bath!

2012 Christmas Life Lessons

Colton was big time disappointed Christmas morning when his brothers showed more excitement about presents instead of their morning breakfast routine.  Because nothing -  not even Santa and presents and reindeer - is more important than an over sized bowl of grape nuts topped with chilled strawberry yogurt with your two big brothers.

Lesson #1: Breakfast before presents.

Conner wore snow pants for 72 hours straight around Christmas.  You heard me right.  72 hours.  Even the beloved star wars toys didn't receive that kind of attention and love.

Lesson #2:  Snow pants are awesome Christmas gifts.


While Conner's excitement is cute and fun, I will be forced to hide Caleb's snow pants in the future. Caleb's hyperactive sweat glands forced Caleb to spend the day snow snowpants-less while big brother had all the fun.


Lesson #3: Summer clothes for Caleb in place of snow pants.

Living out of state for eight years was a treat, but sometimes lonely during the holidays.  
It was a treat to spend the day with grandparents and cousins and great-grandmas.  


Lesson #4:  The best part about Christmas is being together.

holy grail of the dinner plate {according to angie}

I was fifteen minutes early.  Conner had been gone exactly 2 hours and forty-five minutes and it felt like an eternity.  First day of kindergarten = longest morning of my life.

I wanted needed to be there with my arms wide when those doors opened and released my not-so-baby-boy.  I sat waiting in the car with imagination movers keeping the younger boys company as my fight-or-flight response continued to pump through my body.  I waited and waited.  Camera sitting on the seat next to me accompanied with a box of tissues.

Moms finally started emerging from their cars and I carefully followed.  Up ahead leaning against the brick wall stood someone very familiar with a baby on her hip.  My heart skipped a beat when I realized who this familiar person was.  Seriously!  Worst day of my life transformed to best day ever.

Reaching for the camera, I hopped from the car and raced to her side.

"Are you her?"  I asked casually.  Surely New York Times Bestsellers are used to this  kind of question.

She smiled casually and asked if my son was in kindergarten and who his teacher was.

I answered her question briefly but my nerves were on fire with excitement.  I told her multiple times how much I love her writing and her books and her work and finally I begged her to never ever stop writing.

I was going to ask for a picture with her... but I think my excitement was a little too much.

Conner emerged from school and the conversation ended.  Sadly, I was too embarrassed by my overwhelming first-encounter excitement that I never spoke with her again.  Despite the fact that she lived two neighborhoods down for a year and we share many mutual friends and our kids are on the same soccer team and I saw her at church almost every Sunday (different ward same stake) and her oldest son was in my Bear den.

I was worried that my excitement made me look like some kind of crazy stalker fan.


But the worst part of this story is that I started comparing myself.  I love writing stories and creating characters and dreaming up different worlds... but I don't feel a writing career is the right choice for my life right now.  I practice writing every day and study writing technique books and sketch down every story idea that floats through my brain hoping that when the time comes, I will be ready.

But daily sightings of a young mom living her writing dream while changing diapers tore at my heart.  If she could do it, then what was wrong with me?  Obviously, I needed more dedication and a writing blog.  I needed to be stricter with my time and embrace my dream with more enthusiasm.

I tried.
I really did.

But things started to fall apart.  Food began molding in the back of the fridge on a regular basis, exercise never happened, our healthy eating habits began to fall by the way side.  I was happy to be writing on a frequent basis.  So incredibly happy... but I didn't feel amazing because things that are important to me began to be neglected.  

Ultimately to make a long story somewhat shorter, I learned (in the end) that we each have a different pace in life that needs to be respected.  Some women are happy to be go-go-go... but I am not one of those women, and that is okay.  After five years of spending every free moment I had developing marketing schemes and planning patient appreciation luncheons, I hate structured free time.  I still have boxes to unpack from the move and if Nate's research continues to grow at its current rate, it won't be long before I am packing boxes up once again and moving {probably} across state lines once again.

My life speed is unique.
Completely different from anyone else.
Trying to keep up with anyone else besides the needs of my family is completely unwise and stupid.

As a kid, my mom and dad used to warn me against dishing up too much food onto my plate at dinner.

"You can always go back for seconds," they would say, "but once you dish that food up on your plate you have to finish it."

Life - I believe - is the same way.  We have to be careful what expectations we place upon ourself, selective to our commitments, and generous with ourselves.  In the New Testament, we learn that Christ came that we might have life and that we might have it more abundantly.  For me, I don't believe abundance is a plate over piled with food that I will never ever be able to eat or a life filled with commitments that drain my happiness and energy.

Abundance {for me} is learning to say "no".  Making the time to care for my needs in addition to my children so I can be better for others.  It is about saying "yes" when I can with no expectations. Dedicating time to learning and self-education. Kissing my husband more often.  Laughing and playing games.  Working as a family.  Making service a priority.  And seeking my Savior diligently.

And I believe that everyone in this world has their own definition of abundance.
We just have to make sure we are chasing the right definition.

I don't know if this post makes any sense, or if it is just coming across as a bunch of rambling.
I simply wish that I had learned these lessons years ago.   
That it is okay to sit out of the race and chase life at your own pace.

I harbored anxiety that I wasn't running fast enough... and because of that I wasn't good enough.  My thoughts turned to poison and made my life very scary for a short period of time.  I am oh-so-grateful for the people who took the time to teach me these lessons through their words and actions and deeds.

Because really.  Life isn't a race.  Sometimes it is about slowing down to find your own pace and learning to be okay with that and it is about learning to embrace your limitations with charity while supporting your own personal needs and dreams.

Finding the courage to be content with who we are while taking care of ourselves and embracing our dreams at our own individual pace?

I think that is the secret holy grail of the dinner plate.

motherhood {acccording to angie}

If you have been a blog reader of my blogs for a while, you might of noticed a common theme.

Motherhood 

Because oh-my-goodness, I don't want to be just a good mother.
I want to be amazing.

I want my kids to remember baking bread and homemade Halloween costumes and wild birthday parties.  I want them to remember hand crafted Christmas presents and jokes in their lunch boxes and cookies in the cookie jar.  Night time routines should always be tear-less and frustration free with at least a couple dozen minutes spent singing songs and rubbing feet and tucking cute bodies under those blankets that magically fall off a million times on their own.

For far too long, I violently compared my mothering skills to my Colorado and Texas girlfriends that made motherhood look so easy.  So many amazing woman hold their head above the water of motherhood while I struggle against the tide of sleep deprivation and postpartum depression and all of my unrealistic expectations that I hold for myself.

I wanted to conquer motherhood.
Excel at it.

I want to be able to do it all and be it all with one hand tied behind my back.

I told myself that when I finally reached that state of perfected motherhood, I would slow down and finally spend that time with friends that I desperately needed, take care of myself, and catch up on sleep.

Yeah.
That time never came.

And instead of feeling like I was doing my best, I constantly felt depressed at my inability to do and be it all.  Because when you spend your time comparing yourself, you never find the courage to spread your own wings and grow into the person you were designed to become.

I am learning to stop investing my happiness in that facade act of perfection.

Because sometimes the best happiness is found when we stop trying to be or appear perfect.  The year of 2012 taught me to slow down, do less, and embrace who I am despite my imperfections.  I learned that it is okay to go to bed with dishes in the sink and little-boy-dried-urine behind the toilet isn't an absolute emergency because chances are that more will accumulate in five minutes - or less.

I learned to be okay with the fact that I don't love to sew or make things or craftiness.  I stopped playing on the floor with the kids long enough to make time for me.  And that un-relentless guilt that once stalked my every move isn't around as often as it used to be.  

I learned that recycling bins are cool.
Our next birthday parties might be held in them.

I learned that there are somethings that matter and a lot of things that don't.
Two-year-old naked days outside really don't matter if the diaper is clean and shoes are on the right feet.
Think maximum vitamin D absorption.

And when that child has a major crush on tight pants, who really cares?
At least he is dressed.

Cherished memories don't always come from highly articulated planned events.
They magically appear on their own.

A couple cans of shaving cream go a long way.
The messier the activity the better.
I can stop freaking out about every little disaster that happens if my kids are happy and they are respectful.

In the game of life, it really doesn't matter how many goals you make.
All that matters - in the end - is that you had a good time.
Even if you spend the entire soccer game pretending to be Mario Cart.

Front yard fire pits are awesome opportunities to bond with your neighbors.
We just might destroy our tractor garden flower bed to build another fire or two this summer.

Love notes from the heart are always the best....even if you don't quite understand it at first.

Face painting your kids is always the answer.
Period.

The best part of a rodeo (or life in general) is always the playground.
It doesn't matter how much we paid to watch those bucking horses... if the park is demanding our undivided attention we must obey.

Lego pirate ships are awesome.
Especially if constructed before breakfast.

Kids are going to argue and fight.
And I am going to recite my mother in these highly stressful moments.

"Don't look at each other, touch each other, breathe on each other, talk to each other, or think of each other."

But when they choose to love one another, that camera better be available.

And finally I can't do this on my own.

Last summer, I miscarried.  Despite the newness of the pregnancy, I was crushed.  Emptiness encompassed my soul like I have never experienced.  I didn't tell the world, but the few people that I did tell were amazing.  My mom dropped everything to come hold me while I cried.  Sister-in-laws brought dinner and flowers and nutritional products.  Friends brought flowers and offered to watch my kids and wrapped their arms around me when I so desperately needed it.  For too long, I was terrified to express my emotions, my fears, and my insecurities.  I feared that others would judge my imperfections and walk away from me.

I was so desperately wrong.

In the end, I have learned that motherhood isn't about doing it all.  Motherhood isn't about the picture perfect home or the strength to never ever loose your temper.  It is about embracing the life that is yours and finding the courage to do the best you can each and everyday.

And motherhood is about learning to set aside our competitive natures so we can cling to one another.  The morning walks with girlfriends, girls-night-out, and lunch dates are oh-so-important to my happiness.  I am so sad that I sacrificed these precious moments for that stupid pseudo-image of motherhood perfection.

Marjorie Pay Hinckley once said:

“We are all in this together. We need each other. Oh, how we need each other. Those of us who are old need you who are young, and hopefully, you who are young need some of us who are old...We need deep and satisfying and loyal friendships with each other. These friendships are a necessary source of sustenance. We need to renew our faith every day. We need to lock arms and help build the kingdom so that it will roll forth and fill the whole earth.”

I am grateful for the teachers and the friends and the family members that support me in my pursuit of becoming the best mother I can be.  Ultimately, I need you because I can't do this alone.  Thank you for your support!

greatness

It is the small simple things,

like angry bird towers

and the simple display of preschool art work.

Hand crocheted snowflakes by a great-great-grandma

and train rides with friends.

Discovering that play gun again after a long toy-gone-time-out

and cute little toes.

Turtle friends for lunch

and crossed-legged sleeping after a long nap-free day.

"Your greatness is measured by your gifts, not by what you have."

And at the end of the day, it isn't the clean house or the warm ginger drinks that makes me feel great.  

Greatness (for me) is found in the small things, the hugs and kisses, and words of love.
I am grateful for my kids... their love makes me feel great.

 

magical snow...

“We do not need magic to transform our world. 

We carry all of the power we need inside ourselves already.”
J.K. Rowling

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you 

because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. 

Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.” 

Roald Dahl