Thirsty

An hour before I put my kids to bed, I limit the liquid intake. Regardless of my constant reminders to drink-as-much-as-you-can at dinner time, I am always greeted with the but-mom-I-am-going-to-die-if-I-don't-get-a-drink complaint as I am turning off their bedroom light.

There was a time when I was extremely thirsty. Thirsty for some form of accomplishment... something to prove to the world that behind the diapers, laundry, and dishes I still existed. I wanted it bad... and I sacrificed for it. My home, my marriage, and my relationship with my children struggled in their backseat ride towards my dreams. Dreams that could not be put on hold. I spent a lot of time blogging, sewing, cooking, writing, editing photos, and reading... assuring myself that once I was accomplished, I would have time for my kids.

The thirst for more, unrealistic expectations, and the "desire to do it all" act as tiny holes placed in the bottom of a cup. Tiny holes that decrease the amount of love, joy, and happiness our souls can hold. Tiny holes that resonate a constant cry of thirsty-ness.

As I unpack my expectations for my new life next to boxes filled with plates and silverware, I am tossing out the cups with holes. Will you join me?


Favorite Posts of the Week:

-- I love these two posts by Emily P. Freeman entitled When Saying You're Sorry is a Bad Idea and How Saying Yes (and no) Shape a Life Story.
-- I love these 10 Points of Joyful Parenting by Ann VosKamp
-- I love this you tube video. My happiness drawer requires an entire compartment dedicated to ants in my pants.

Kindergarten Kindergarten Kindergarten

Conner had his first day of kindergarten today.
His teacher's name is Mrs. Black.
His number is 13.
His symbol is a chick.
He has a blue notebook that holds his important homework.


Class starts at 9:15 am.
He hangs his backpack up and sits at his seat.
He plays on the playground during break.


School is pretty awesome.


For a long time I planned to homeschool my kids. I researched curriculum, studied the philosophies, and joined homeschool groups. I made homeschool notebooks, folders, and activities. I scheduled my days, planned out the minutes, and bookmarked songs on youtube.


All of my personal goals, desires, and thoughts began to revolve around my decision to keep my kids at home. My self image was knitted in homeschooling. I began the process to enroll Conner in an online homeschool program known as K12. I met his teacher, completed the paperwork, and selected the courses we would take. I created homeschool lessons - and taught them while Colton removed his diaper and pranced around the house naked. I homeschooled during nap time, bed time, and everywhere in between.


I loved it... but something did not feel right.
It was demanding, and I could not keep up.


After much discussion, Nate and I decided that homeschooling was not right for Conner this year. I simply could not balance it. I did not have the energy, strength, or ability to homeschool my five-year-old, preschool my three-year-old, and simultaneously keep a diaper on my daring one-year-old who loves to dance on the kitchen table and play in the toilet. I could not do it all.


And at first I felt really guilty.
I should be able to do it all... right?


The answer is No.
No one can do it all and simultaneously maintain their sanity.


For a long time I felt guilty.
Guilty that I could not do more or be more for my child.
What kind of mother am I? Really?



I watched my child interact with his teacher, meet his classmates, and sit at his very own desk today. The big smile on his face erased all of my guilt. His joy taught me that the happiness of my family, and myself, is entirely dependent upon my ability to admit that I can not do it all.


Because sometimes trying to do it all - limits my ability to do anything at all.
Sometimes admitting that I can not do it all provides more balance, happiness, and joy... and I want more of that.

My name is Angie, and I am grateful that I can not do it all... more importantly I am grateful that I do not have to do it all.

Yellow Trucks = The Best Bribe Ever

The holy grail of motherhood bribes has been discovered.

Big Yellow Penske Trucks

For weeks I encouraged my kids to go to bed, brush their teeth, and share their toys all for the sake of the big yellow moving truck.

And you can bet your bottom dollars that it worked.
It worked like magic. Never before have my kids gone to bed without complaint, shared their toys so lovingly, and brushed their teeth without resistance. It was fabulous.






Thank you Penske truck for encouraging my kids to be even more wonderful, obedient, and kind.

Horizons....

One week ago, Nate and I packed up a big yellow moving van.

Surrounded by some of our dearest friends, we said goodbye to the town that was home for five years.

As we turned onto first street for the very last time, I watched the town I love disappear in my horizon. The stores, the parks, the homes of friends - all of the places that once were familiar, home, and mine are now a stored away in my memory. A memory that I will always love.

To all of the amazing friends in Loveland - thank you. Your love, generosity, and friendship amaze me. Thank you for your love. Thank you for your prayers. Thank you for your listening ears, caring hearts, and thoughtful service towards me and my family. Thank you for inspiring me to be a better person. Thank you for sharing five years of your life with me.

Loveland - and everyone in it - I love you.

To Really Love

When we moved in with my parents, I had an amazing plan of action. The plan consisted of something along the lines of showering at 5:00 am and staying up until midnight to fold laundry, mop floors, and do the dishes.


Insane plan.


But I made it with the intent to avoid asking my parents for help.


It is not that my parents do not want to help.... it is the opposite. My parents are eager to help in anyway possible, and they definitely love their grandchildren a lot.


Simply - I did not want to ask for help. Because asking for help always feels like an ultimate confession of weakness. A sign that I am not a good mother... or person.


My crazy do-everything-when-the-kids-are-asleep-plan lasted two days.
Impressive - right?


At the end of the two days, my entire world came to a stop.
I needed help, and I needed it badly.


Depressed and annoyed - I started to ask for help.
But I hated it.
Resented it.
And I started wishing that I had my own house back.


And then it happened. I cracked into a million pieces. My desires, interests, and happiness in life vanished. I started going through the motions without any pride or joy. I questioned what the point of motherhood is if I could not do it all... and perfectly at the same time.


I felt hollow.
Empty.
And alone.


Slowly, with the help of my parents and husband, I started to piece myself back together... and I am so grateful for them. The problem with trying to be that ultra-super-perfect-mother is that somewhere under all my insane expectations for myself, I buried who I am. My friendships, interests, and goals were neglected by the list of things that I thought I should do.... not cool.


I've learned that true motherhood strength comes from knowing when to ask for help and being willing to accept it. True super moms acknowledge that they can not do it all... and they are okay with that.



When packing up my house four weeks ago, multiple people asked to help.
I turned every single one of them down.
Moving?
I should be able to do that on my own.
Right?


No. I really should not have done that on my own. I lost an opportunity to be loved by amazing individuals who I am proud to call my friends... and I wore myself out in the process. Refusing help not only decreased my ability to function as a "good" mother while packing up my house - it debilitated me physically and emotionally after.


Sometimes trying to do "it all" decreases our ability to do anything at all.

“Bottom line is, even if you see 'em coming, you're not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are.”

― Joss Whedon

This big moment of my life has taught me that I do not want to be that society-defined-super-mom who never asks for help. I want to love and be loved - because sometimes in that search for perfection you do not have time to really love. I want to spend more time loving others... and less time obsessing over the guilt of not being something more.

I do not want to do "it all."
I only want to do the things that matter most.



In the words of Marjorie Pay Hinckley: “I want to drive up [to the pearly gates] in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”

First Day of School

Nate had his first day of graduate school two weeks ago.
Dear blog - will I ever catch up?

The last two weeks have been filled with campus confusion, rat brain dissections, electrodes, statistic classes with 11 ways to calculate the final grade, professors who prefer to be addressed as "the Egg," graduate orientation dinner, on-the-spot neuroscience teaching, 770 miles driven to and from campus, and packed lunches.


First day down....

The Mary Kay Service Lesson

Nate had the privilege to serve in a leadership capacity for almost three year at our church in Loveland Colorado. His responsibilities included early morning meetings before and after Sunday services, the occasional weekly meeting, and sitting on the stand during church meetings... which equates to Angie doing the keep-the-kids-reverent-during-church-dance alone.


At first, it was very rough. I had two boys under the age of three with a lot of energy and determination. Despite the slew of individuals willing to help, I believed that I should be able to do it on my own. Occasionally, I would allow them to help me... but the guilt I felt afterwards was tremendous. I felt that my energetic boys inhibited others from enjoying their church services and detracted from the atmosphere and goodness that could be felt during the services. With the attempt to avoid inconveniencing others, I avoided the help from others at all costs. Every Sunday I wrestled my kids into their seats... and I prayed that my boys would be reverent for ten minutes.


Skip forward ten months and I am pregnant with Colton.

Caleb, now a walking fifteen-months-old and He screams for Dad anytime he saw Nate sitting on the stand. Conner, three-years-old, does not like the idea of sitting still at church.

I did not know how I was going to make it with three kids.

Finally, when I was starting to loose hope... and question why my husband was called to serve... the amazing Mary Kay stepped in to help. She gently taught me that it is okay to ask for help - and she was amazing. It is astounding what Mary Kay can do... she is a sacrament-child-miracle.

I was beyond grateful.... but at the same time, I was extremely embarrassed.

Why couldn't I hold it together?
Why couldn't I do more, be more, and accomplish more?


For over a year, I felt guilty about needing help.

I felt guilty that instead of enjoying church, Mary Kay spent her Sunday protecting her glasses from Colton, bouncing various kids on her lap, and wrestling with Caleb for the marker that just drew all over his face.

I've got to admit that deep down, I wondered what it would be like to have Nate sitting by me during church. I wished I could tag-team him instead of inconveniencing someone else. As our move from Colorado to Utah approached, I caught myself looking forward to my husband sitting by me during church, helping with the get-everyone-ready-for-church-routine, and the break-down-from-three-hours-of-church-exhaustion chaos.


We love Mary Kay.
Mary Kay was the highlight of church.
Sitting with Mary Kay was an equivalent to spending time with Grandma.


On our last Sunday at our Loveland ward - I learned something.

As I watched Mary Kay hug my boys goodbye, I realized that all of her love and service was not done out of obligation or with malice. Mary Kay genuinely loved me and my children.
She served with charity, a genuine heart, and the desire to help me because she loved me... and I realized that I spent too much time feeling guilty, and not enough time enjoying her love.


The ability to serve with love, no thought for oneself, and true charity is amazing while the gift to receive service without feeling like a burden or guilty is simultaneously admirable. Guilt is a plague that distorts reality and removes the pleasure from service. Serving out of guilt lacks the Christ-like love - while receiving service with a side of guilt blinds us to the love of the Savior.

"God hears and answers our prayers,
but it is usually through the life of another that he answers them."
-Spencer W. Kimball

It is important to open our hearts to serving others while it is simultaneously important to open our hearts to the love of the Lord found in the service of others.

Both gifts are necessary.