Thankful

I've enjoyed reading so many people's facebook and blog posts about the things they are grateful for throughout this month.  I love that about November!  I haven't been as good about writing gratitude posts, but I would be a wretch if I didn't today.

While some women struggle during their pregnancies with nausea and sickness, I struggle with insomnia, especially during my first trimester.  The first trimester of this pregnancy was especially brutal, as I slept only 2-3 hours per night, and was unable to sleep during the day.  It was agonizing to be so exhausted, but for sleep to be so elusive.  I'm amazed at how well my body adapted to the lack of sleep and accommodated to a new normal, even though night time had become my nemesis.  At about 13 or 14 weeks, the insomnia let up and I thought I was clear of the misery it had brought.

The past few nights, my insomnia has returned with vengance.  This time, though, much more brutal.  I've had what I can only imagine is Restless Leg Syndrome, although it hasn't been officially diagnosed, and that has been the worst part.  Being so restless when you're so exhausted results in fatigue that is painful- literally.

This morning at 2:30am I woke up Dennis, almost in tears and asked if he would give me a priesthood blessing.  I was so exhausted that my body ached and I was desperate for any sort of relief. Afterwards, he sat in bed next to me and rubbed my legs, without me asking, until I was able to relax and come near to falling asleep.

As he was getting ready for work a few hours later at 6am, Calista woke up bright-eyed and bushy tailed.  Of course... isn't that how it always seems to go?  Dennis took her downstairs to watch cartoons and woke up Camden, and asked him to babysit his little sister so that I could sleep a little longer and he could go to work.  Dennis said he cheerfully hopped out of bed and snuggled next to his sister on the couch with his blanket.  By the time I woke up at about eight o'clock, I came downstairs to find that Camden had fed his two sisters breakfast and was waiting for me, concerned about how I was feeling.

I curse the insomnia and the misery it brings, but feel thankful for the love I've been able to feel from my husband and family because of it.

How did a girl like me ever get lucky enough to get a guy like this?

Little Magician

I feel sometimes like our family is like a geometric shape that comes closer and closer to completion with the addition of each child.  I can't imagine our family with any of their little personalities missing.
It has been a privelege and a wonder to see them grow into the unique dynamic that they will contribute not only to our family, but to the world.

Camden brings tenderness and thoughtfulness.  Luke brings laughter and passion.  Lauren brings excitement and energy.  Calista brings peace and unconditional love.  Our family would be terribly lop-sided and incomplete without any one of them.

They are each so beautifully unique in their gifts and dispositions, that it would be impossible to choose a favorite.  I hesitate sometimes to write too much about one child or another in fear of giving them the impression of favoritism.  But lately my little Luke has been on mind, and the wonderful gifts that he brings to this world.

My little Luke has made me laugh every day since the day he was born.  He has a gift that I've coined the "gift of context."  He has an amazing ability to read and see through people in a way that some adults have said is intimidating.  He bases his actions or reactions based on the context of the person or the situation, which in turn makes him either incredibly charming and witty, or incredibly stubborn at times.  Very little escapes his notice, even subtle nuances that most people miss.   I've noticed that he has learned to read words based on understanding the context of what he is reading, instead of sounds and syllables the way so many children his age do.  It's a truly a remarkable gift.

So much of his humor is based on this ability to understand context and I think that's what makes it so funny.  How very appropriate that he chose a magician theme for his six-year old pictures this year! When he suggested it, I smiled and thought, I couldn't have chosen a better theme if I had tried.

The other day as we sat around the dinner table, during a particularly noisy meal, he rolled his eyes and said, "Mom, you and Dad really need to stop spawning so many children.  I think we have enough."  ... this coming from a first grader.

I remember a couple of years ago, when he was probably only 3 or 4 years old, he did something terribly naughty to Camden.  I told him he needed to apologize but he refused, insisting that Camden had deserved it (which he had).  I told him that whether or not Camden deserved it, it didn't justify his actions, and I again insisted that he apologize.  If he didn't, I said, there would be consequences.  He furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his little arms across his chest, giving me a death stare that seemed to say, "bring it on."

Oh brother, I thought, here we go.  I knew I had just entered a battle of wills, and that there was a good chance I would probably lose.  As Dennis has said, "That kid could teach a mule a thing or two about stubborness."

I put him in time-out... no luck.

A spanking on the bum... nothing.

I took away his favorite toy, computer time, playing with friends... nothing.

We were about an hour into our battle of wills and I was exhausted and he was sitting on the stairs crying.  I had nothing left in my aresenal of humane consequences.  One little word... "sorry"- that was all it would take and for the life of him, he would not say it!  I knelt down by him and pleaded with him that if he would at least acknowledge in any small way that he was sorry, that this would all be over and he could go back to playing.

I suddenly had a flash of inspiration and told him that if he would touch his nose with his finger to let me know he was sorry, that that would count as an apology.  He looked up with tears streaming down his face and touched the tip of his finger to the end of his nose, over, and over, and over again.

My little boy... so very stubborn, but so dear to me.  I hugged him tightly and his tears were dried.

In one way his stubborness worries me, but in another way, I breathe a sigh of relief to know that this little boy refuses to let himself be pushed around or manipulated.  I admire that his respect for people comes not from their position of authority, but from the trust he has in them.  Intimidation is a foreign concept to him, and that is something that I truly admire.

What a blessing it is to have these children who bring such joy and laughter into our lives, but who also force us to stretch ourselves, and think outside the box.

My little Luke, I love you more than any words could express.

October

A couple of weeks ago I went through a bit of a roller coaster, and truth be told, I'm a little embarassed by it all and the attention it got.   I was contacted by Deseret News and asked if they could post my last blog post to their website.  I had always thought it would be fun to be "published" so I agreed and later that afternoon it was published.

Knowing that my family blog does not get a lot of internet traffic, I had written the post with a small audience in mind, imagining that most of my readers would be people who know me, most of whom have been reading my blog for quite some time.

The reviews were mixed with the majority being very kind and positive, but many on Deseret News' website and facebook page being negative, having found offense to the topic or certain word choices.  Being a "recovering people pleaser," the negative comments were hard on me to say the least.  It's pathetic, I know, but it's something I'm working on.  I've made great progress over the past few years, but the people pleaser in me is unfortunately deep rooted.  And it's times like this that I realize it runs deeper than I thought.

But thank goodness for the beautiful life I have outside of any public scrutiny or criticism.  If anything, I came away from that experience realizing that living in anonymity isn't quite so bad after all- and it's the things that happen behind closed doors in our little home that make life so fulfilling and rich for me.

On a separate note, I've heard it said that October is for photographers what April is for accountants, and now I can see why.  It seems as though in every spare moment when the kids are napping or down for the night, I've been editing and preparing pictures for clients.  I'm ready to take a break and focus more on learning and practicing, rather than producing.  It's kind of a beast that takes on a life of it's own if you let it.  I've made a point to set some strict guidelines for  myself when it comes to time that I spend on work for clients.  While it certainly has drawn out deadlines, it has been wonderful for my family life and I wondered why I didn't do it sooner.

Halloween was the highlight of the month of course, with the kids asking almost daily how many days were left until they could go trick-or-treating.  During the excitement and preparation leading up to the Halloween night, I realized how sad I'll be when there aren't little ones left at home to make an otherwise gruesome (and my least favorite) holiday so exciting.  Luke decided to be a zombie this year.  This is the first year one of our children has wanted to go as something "scary" so he was breaking the mold!

 
The weekend before, we took some time to go four-wheeling up in the mountains, followed by lunch in a charming, small-town dinery with some of our favorite friends on one of the last warm weekends of the fall.  It was a wonderful break and I was again reminded how much I love the mountains.

_____________________________

The other day as I picked Luke up from school, I saw him walking towards the car with an ear-to-ear grin on his face and handful of cash.  He was obviously thrilled with himself and whatever it was that he had done.  When we got in the car I asked him where in the world he had gotten that kind of cash.

"Easy...  I sold my worst Pokemon cards to the girls in my class and they paid me a dollar for each of them!"

As much as I wanted to give him a stern lecture, I couldn't help but laugh out loud as I tried to tell him sternly that taking advantage of anyone, for any reason, is never okay.

Later that day, I called the school and told them the situation.  I told them I had already talked to my son, and that he had promised he wouldn't do it again, but to be aware in case the temptation was too great and he did it again.  The secretary had a good laugh about it as well, but assured me that she would keep an eye out on the playground for the little mini black market that my first grader had set up.

Life is good.

In defense of the frumpy stay-at-home mom

"So, where else do you work?"

I get this question almost daily since I've gone back to work.  I work once per week at a long-term care facility and it feels good to be back in the nursing field.

"I work at home.  I'm a stay-at-home mom."

Ironically it's the women who usually wrinkle their noses, and the men who congratulate me.  Living in an area that is known to be conservative and family-oriented, the reactions of the women in particular always surprise me.

One female co-worker, at hearing my response said, "Why would you go through all the time and money to get a degree in a profession that you barely even use?"  I'm ashamed to say that a snarky and equally judgmental reply came to mind, which I fortunately had the good sense to keep to myself.

It's also painful when judgmental remarks are made about our decision to have another child.  We've only made the announcement of our upcoming arrival to a few people, and part of my hesitation comes from the response we've gotten from some of the people we've already told.

"Seriously, girl?!?  Aren't your hands full enough already?"

Or the remark one co-worker made to another (I assume joking) when I was completing my drug screen for work.  "Make sure you check her extra well.   You've got to be high on something to have gotten pregnant with your fifth child."

Or with bulging eyes, "So will this one finally be your last one?"

I remember a little sadly when I first announced I was pregnant with my first and second children and the joy with which people received the announcements.  With the third, fourth, and now fifth pregnancies, the reactions have become less joyful and more of shock and ominous warning about the wrecking ball that is about to destroy our life.

I'm not sure when being a stay-at-home mom, let alone one with a houseful of children, got such a bad rap.  I'm guessing it happened in the last few decades when more women have entered the work force and the stay-at-home mom has been portrayed by the media as a frumpy, uneducated underachiever, who is left with no other option than to stay home to bear offspring and do the grunt work that a housekeeper should be doing.

But then I think as individuals we've done plenty to propagate the stigma as well.  Take most people's opinion of the mini-van (which includes mine as well).  A mini-van just isn't cool, no matter which way you spin it.  It doesn't matter the year, make, or model, or whether you call it a Mormon Mobile or a Swagger Wagon... it's a friggin' mini-van.  Sizing up to a Suburban, or in our case Excursion, isn't much better.  You're still packing around a boat load of crazy.  You're mommy ride just became bigger, squarer, and harder to park.

Then come the strollers that are wide and long enough to carry the Pope, the diaper bags that are forever spilling out it's contents of Cheerios and stale sippy cups, the sour burp cloths, and don't even get me started on nursing bras.

Then you come home to breaking up fights fit for a bar, cleaning the contents of blown-out diaper, the spills, the sticky fingerprints, the broken blinds.  You're once magazine-esque house is now baby-proofed to the nines in plastic plug-in covers and rounded table edges, with your Christmas tree sporting a bare bottom half.  

And then then there are the embarrassing mommy tantrums and the apologies you give to your husband for acting like a sleep-deprived lunatic.

Yes, it's all there in it's awkward glory of  motherhood.

And yet, I love it.  There's nothing I'd rather be doing with my life.  It is unglamorous, monotonous, cumbersome, back-breaking, and soul-breaking, but raising children is sacred work. I believe that the hardest things that we do in life will be the ones that we look back on with the greatest fondness.  And raising my four little monkeys and growing a fifth, has been without a doubt the most difficult thing I've ever done, and likely ever will do in my life- but this is my life's work.  They are my life's work.

Yesterday afternoon as I sat next to my first grader and helped him through his reading, I felt a surge of gratitude for the grace of God in allowing me to be home at that moment, to listen to him conquer his first four-syllable word.  I felt it last week as I helped my boys scour their room to find odds and ends for their "Wacky Wednesday" costumes for school.  I felt it when I french braided my four-year old's hair and she told me I had made her look as beautiful as a princess.

I've noticed from working at the nursing home that life and the things we hold dearest to our hearts have an interesting way of unraveling themselves in the twilight of a person's life.  I'm amazed at how often the dear, sweet people I care for- many of whom have little to no awareness of their circumstances or surroundings, or even the name of their spouse- often fall asleep calling out for "mother."  The role and influence of a mother is never diminished, even when the faculties of the mind and body are gone.

The frumpy mother is a myth- a creature of unkindly propagated legend, often created in our own minds.  In the eyes and heart of the child who a mother is nurturing, there is no such a thing.  I've started making it a point to tell people who raise their eyebrows at my "under-used degree" or "unemployment" how privileged I feel to be able to do the most honorable work available to women.  I tell them how thankful I am that I married a man who honors women who bear the grunt work of humanity and who thanks me daily for doing so.

Thanks be to God for the women who labor in the workforce who make this world a better and kinder place.  But thanks also be to God for the women who work on the home front, often who carry out their life's work behind a veil of anonymity.

No more crumbs

Dear kids,

I realize you probably won't read this for several years, probably even decades.  You'll probably be parents or possibly even grandparents before you go back and read the things I've written.  That's okay.  It wasn't until my late 20's that I started yearning to reach back into the past to glean insight from the lives of my parents and ancestors.  I just hope that at some point you will reach back.  What separates you from me is less than you may think.  Lifestyles have a way of changing and evolving, but life itself for the most part doesn't.  The problems I face, and the problems my parents and even great-grandparents faced are in many ways the same problems you face, just in a different setting and time.  I've written (vented) about this in the past, but life has a way of putting different twists on things that you think you may have conquered.

A few months ago a dear friend of mine came to my front door to drop something off.  I invited her in and we started chatting about the things that had gone on that week.  As we talked, I had to hold back the tears.  I felt so overwhelmed- church assignements, my upcoming trip to Ghana, finances, taking pictures for clients, the kids, my unrelenting insomnia, and on and on.  My biggest feeling of regret came from the realization that through it all, my children and husband were suffering the consequences of the choices I made to over-extended myself.  My friend also teared up, telling me she was feeling similarly overwhelmed and had similar feelings of guilt.  As we sat in the entry way talking, the sunshine was pouring in and it was a beautiful day outside.  But I felt none of the beauty of the day- only the weight of too much responsibility and the accompanying guilt.

Kiddos, you'll learn quickly that everyone around you will in some way be constantly vying for your
attention and time.  They'll try to make you feel indispensible- that you need to do it because you're the only one who can.  They'll slap a thick-as-peanutbutter layer of guilt and moral duty to try to convince you that you must.

God gave you and me a brain and the power to discern for a reason.  Choose where you place your loyalties and your time, and choose them carefully.  Even within the church, be selective and prayerful with what you accept to do.  I've had bizarre requests from members of the church, using my commitment to the gospel as leverage to try to convince me to act.  You will inevitably meet a few quacks (pardon the term) who will try enlighten you with their understanding of how to best be a disciple of Christ.

"If you think fasting for one day is spiritutal, you should try three."

"A visiting teacher who really cares always visits before the 15th of every monoth."

"If you don't take her dinner, watch her kids, and clean her house, who will?"

I love the gospel and I treasure my membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I have no doubt that I am a better person because of it.   And because of my love for it and the blessings I've received for serving in the church, I want you to listen, really listen, to what the true doctrine teaches.  The true doctrine of Christ is not manipulative or guilt-ridden.  It is filled with love, forgiveness, and acceptance of who you are as you are.  It encourages us to reach higher and to become better, but not through pharisaical pettiness.  It is the interpretation of these few over-ambitious watchmen that drive so many people away.  And what a tragedy that is.

But then there are the other people who also vy for you attention- friends, extended family, family doctors, teachers, employers.

"We're in desperate need of volunteers at the school. Can't you get a sitter for your kids?"

"When are we going to have another girl's night out?"

"Why haven't you been coming to the gym lately?"

"The deadline for the yearly online education is coming up.  How's that going?"

"Have you been reading to your children 20 minutes a day? Are they eating a balanced diet?"

(The answer to the pediatrician for the last one is usually an embarassed "Ummm... no and no.")

In all fairness, most of the requests are well-intended and innocent enough.  Those are often the hardest to filter.  But whether their intentions are innocent or rotten, it still draws on your mental, emotional, and often physical capacities and must also be carefully and prayerfully selected.

That afternoon as I sat talking to my friend, I told her I felt like I was giving the best of myself- my patience, creativity, compassion, and organization- to others and leaving only crumbs for my family and myself.  By day's end I was usually ill-tempered, physically exhausted, and emotionally depleted. The guilt I felt because of that fact was worse than anything else.  Why was I giving the least to the people in my life who give me the most?

We agreed that day that there would be "no more crumbs."  But this business of prioritizing is never-ending and will be a demon we battle for the rest of our lives.

Good luck, kiddos.  It's tough and crappy to try to sort through it all.  Especially when we're dealing with people we love and respect.  Let me know if you figure it out.  I'd love to know your secret. I sure as heck don't have it, but if I could say anything, I would say invest your time and energy the way you invest your money... invest in whatever gives you the biggest return.  And I promise you, that your children and your spouse are in the end the ones who provide the greatest return- more joy and love than you think your heart is capable of holding.  I know this because I've been blessed to be your mother and I've felt that return, even when I've least deserved it.

I love you.

Love,

Mom

Look up

I remember once when I was in New York City taking a tour on top one of the big red tour buses and hearing the tour guide saying that a notorious characteristic of New Yorkers is that they rarely look up.   He pointed out that many of the landmarks of New York City and much of it's history are high up above ground level and encouraged us that while in New York to remember to look up or we would miss a large portion of our New York experience.  Since then I've tried to remember to look up, not just in New York, but at home as well.

I find that on the days I'm feeling the most discouraged if I remember to look up, not just spiritually but literally as well, my mind is taken off the burdens of the day.  The magnificence of the cloud formations and the stunning colors of the rising and setting sun seem to shout the existence of a greater plan, higher than I could ever comprehend with my finite mind.  And suddenly my problems seem so small. I've thought often how humans, such complex creatures, can be comforted by the clouds, perhaps one of God's simplest creations.

The amazing thing about clouds is that for all their beauty and majesty, their exact formations are so unique to the atmospheric conditions and lighting that they can never be duplicated or recreated.  They are fleeting moments of beauty that often pass by overhead noticed only by a few.  The only way to capture them as they are is in the form of a picture.  And so I've started taking pictures of clouds.

This last one was taken from the airplane on my way home from Ghana.

Change of Seasons

The kids are back in school, the weather is starting to cool off, and the earthy smell in the air warns of the upcoming change of season.  I've always resented fall and what it means- the ending of summer and the imminent arrival of it's cold and bitter counterpart.  This year I've been trying to make an effort to appreciate fall.  Not for what it will eventually turn into, but for what it is now- golden and refreshing.  I appreciate that the kids are back in school, for both my sake and theirs.  I find that I'm a better mother, more patient and present, when there is more structure to our day and when I'm not surrounded by little people at every waking (and at times sleeping) hour of the day.

Isn't that a constant struggle- to appreciate things as they are and not for what they were or what they will become?

Yesterday I called my dad for some advice on a situation that has increasingly become more difficult.  I knew I was in need of sound advice from someone who could listen without judgement.  I was grateful for the advice he gave me.  So many times in our attempts to do act Christianly, we lose our bearings and find ourselves in swirling and confusing messes that lack boundaries, and abound in good but misaimed intentions.

He told me, "Forgiveness and love for others should be unconditional.  But trust is a different matter.  It is very conditional.  We do not have to give our trust to everyone.  But decide how you trust someone, even if it's only a little bit, and base your relationship around the areas that you do trust in them."

He also counseled me to pray, not necessarily with expectation of changing the situation, but to increase my ability to handle the situation cheerfully and without resentment.

How grateful I am for the presence of a wise and loving father in my life.  We are all blessed with a loving Father in Heaven, but not everyone was given the luxury of a wonderful earthly father as well. To be blessed with both is a tremendous blessing.

Here are a few pictures from a recent family reunion with the Merricks.  Aren't kids so cute when they're filthy?