Writing a Letter to Me

A while ago I wrote a post about things I wish I would have known before I had kids. I'm sure that in about ten years from now, I'll be writing a post about things I wish I would have known when I had young children. That's just the way life rolls, I guess, always learning things that would have been so nice to know yesterday.

I know this is so lame, but as I was mopping the floor yesterday (I do most of my thinking when I'm scrubbing toilets and mopping floors) and even though I'm not a huge country music fan, I started thinking about a country song (yes, very cliché) called, "If I Could Write a Letter to Me." It's a thought-provoking song and Brad Paisley is one of the country sings who isn't too twangy or whiney so I can handle his music. I started thinking about all the things I would write to my teenage self in a letter. I immediately had a flood of advice and regrets that I wish I could pass on to my younger self.

I wish I would have been easier on my parents, realizing that they were stumbling through parenthood just as I was stumbling through adolescence. So many times I thought they were deliberately trying to ruin my life without realizing how much decisions you make as a parent are just shots in the dark while you keeping your fingers crossed.

I wish I wouldn't have dated boys so seriously. I laugh when I remember my mom, in her Chilean accent, suggesting that I "be like a butterfly and try all the flowers!" I had the rest of my life ahead of me to be married! Why in the world was I acting like I was married to these boys when I was 13 and 14 years old?

I would have treasured my time with my grandparents and parents, realizing that I would spend the vast majority of my life with them living far away, or with them having had passed away.

I wouldn't have been so rude to that boy that wrote me love notes and kept asking me out. I could have still been gracious and kind in letting him know that I wasn't interested. How awkward it was to run into him 10 years later as an adult. He being just as sweet as ever, and me feeling like a rat for the terrible way I had treated him.

I wish I wouldn't have fretted so much about what others thought of me, constantly trying to fit in. Some of the people I admire the most are those who march to the beat of their own drum and aren't afraid to be different.

I would have told myself not to beat myself up about not always getting the best grades in school. Looking back, I'm glad that I developed other hobbies and athletic interests other than focusing solely on academics. Even as the chronic B and C student, I was still able to get an excellent college education and career that I love, while still coming away with hobbies to carry me through my adult years. (Yes, I realize many will disagree with this one)

Knowing now the struggles and challenges my siblings have had to face in their adult years, I would have tried harder to develop relationships that would carry us through these difficult times.

I would open my eyes to the constant sacrifices my parents were making for me on a daily and even hourly basis for me.

I would have gone on more early morning jogs with my dad and had more talks with my mom.

And last, but certainly not least, I would have taken tweezers to those mangy things I called eyebrows and a curling iron to that mop of hair!

Last night I was at a Relief Society meeting that talked about the importance of journaling and I realized that in a sense I can write a letter to myself through journaling in hopes that my children will read it and learn from my many mistakes. I can't do anything to change my past but I can certainly try to help make my childrens' pasts ones with fewer regrets and wishes for do-overs. For me, my blog has become my primary source of journaling.

It was brought up that many of the experiences we face are not for ourselves, but for our posterity. I shouldn't always think that my experiences are all about me. They may not have anything to do with me, but more to do with my children and grandchildren and the lessons they will glean from them.

I recently read a book that recounted the experiences of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. As I read it, I thought many times how the trials and unimagineable tradgedies they endured were not only meant to be sanctifying for them, but for those who decades later, would read their personal accounts and be strengthened by their remarkable faith and courage. I know that reading the accounts of their experiences and sacrifices was life-changing for me.

If you have any advice you'd write to your youngerself, I'd love to hear it.

Quirks

I love my kids' quirks. They have so many of them. Here are a few recent ones:

This morning I got a call from Camden's teacher at school telling me that yesterday he had a bit of a scuffle with another student. I told Camden that before he went to school, he needed to write an apology note to the boy. Camden agreed and wrote: "I am sorry for kicking you yesterday." And then continued on starting in on writing out a lecture for the other boy. I told him that an apology wasn't to say "sorry" followed by a lecture, but that apologizing was all that he was to put in the note. He was so frustrated that I had completely taken the wind out of his sails. He had so much more that he wanted to say! He had planned on giving the poor kid an earful.

Later on this morning Luke told me he wanted to talk to his dad at work. I called Dennis but had a couple of things to tell him before I handed the phone over to Luke. Apparently I was taking to long because Luke got within a couple inches of the phone and started singing as loudly and obnoxiously as he could so I couldn't hear Dennis and to subtly expedite the process of getting his mother off the phone.






For lunch today, Luke decided that cold cereal in milk is pretty good, but what's even better is cold cereal with tortilla chips in milk. He ate the whole bowl with a smug little grin, watching me and enjoying my grossed out reaction.









Most babies go through a phase of giving open-mouthed kisses and eventually grow out of it after they realize that the rest of the world generally gives closed-mouth kisses. Apparently Lauren quite enjoys the attention and squeals of protest she gets from her brothers when she gives them a drool bath for a kiss, so she has never transitioned over to the closed-mouth kissing. Yes, she's almost two. If this doesn't correct itself in the next little while, we might need to have a serious intervention chat with her before she starts kindergarten. But in the meantime, I think they're pretty funny and I love how she giggles in satisfaction after she gives them and watches us wipe our faces off.

Being Normal

I've been thinking lately that the longer I live in Idaho and the more kids I have, the more ordinary my life is becoming. The longer time goes by, the fewer things in my life change and the more invisible and unnotable I feel. I had always imagined myself living in large cities as I had as a child, moving from adventure to adventure and living a much more glamorous life style. I never imagined that my days would be so routine living in a mostly unknown suburban American town, day after day, with so little variation.

But the most surprising thing about my revelation of my ordinary life is how okay I am with it. Not just okay, but how much I am learning to revel in it. As a kid, we were always the newcomers that stood out like a sore thumb, drawing attention everywhere we went. We always seemed to be somewhat stumbling around trying to find our way around the new places we lived- always in explorer mode. We were the perpetual new kids or visitors, whether we were in a foreign country or in the U.S.

I love the fact that when I go to the grocery store I almost always run into people I know. I love the network of friends that I've developed and that my kids know the other children that live in our neighborhood. I love that I don't have to keep in the back of my mind that in a year or two I'm going to have to say goodbye to my dear friends, most likely to never see them again. I love Camden's school, my trips to the gym, the girls-nights-out, the fact that I'm discovering hidden treasures in the community and the realization that 5 years from now, there's a good chance my life won't be much different than it is today. I never thought stability and normalcy would be so comforting.

Of course there are things I desperately miss about my childhood. I loved being in the Southern Hemisphere during the cold winter months of the Northern Hemisphere and vice versa during our trips to the U.S. in June and July. I miss the abundance of tree-ripened fruit. I miss our frequent family vacations to exciting beaches, resorts and ruins. I miss the dancing and the music of the Latin culture. Those are the things I long for on the blustery, rainy spring days like today.

It has been liberating to find enough joy and satisfaction in the simple and uneventful things in life like Luke crawling into bed with me at 6:30am, a long run on a summer evening, a good book, planting new trees in our backyard that I know I will be around long enough to enjoy them as they mature, and realizing that the walls of our house are the only home my children have ever known. It has been wonderful to not always be looking around the corner for something bigger and better than what I have now. As Dennis can attest, I still get restless and anxious for change at times, but as I've told him, I hope someday that my need for change will be satisfied with a new pair of shoes rather than moving to a new country.

I struggle knowing how to make my childhood experiences relevant and pertinent to my life now. I believe everyone should make their childhood experiences and their parent's sacrifices a part of their lives in some significant way. The trick is knowing how to do it while living in the moment without always keep one foot in the past. I have yet to discover that. Sometimes I feel like they are so distant and different that I wonder how they could possibly make a difference in who I am today. But I am determined to find that link.

Sometimes as I look at my brother's blog who lives overseas with his family, I think how I wish trips to Jerusalem, Roman ruins, and a child's baptism at the Sea of Galilee were what I journaled about and what my children's memories were made of instead of crazy trips to Costco. But then I realize that this is my life and it has been given to me on a silver platter. Life as I know it now is happier and more fulfilling than I could have ever planned or imagined. As a kid I certainly wouldn't have sketched this out as my life plan but it's a good thing the Lord knows me better than I know myself. And boy, does He.

The Things Mommy's Nightmares Are Made Of

Last night as we were going to bed, I decided Dennis needed to feel bad for his pregnant wife who earlier that day had foolishly taken all three kids to run errands at 4 different stores. After I was convinced he felt thoroughly sorry for me, I decided I needed to journal this so my kids can see what they put me through when they were little and maybe when they're grown up they'll take extra care of their aging, senile mother who they drove off the cliff of insanity.

Camden is on Spring Break this week so he's had to tag along in the crazy wagon caravan. I really do love having him around. I started with a plan to be quickly in and out of each store and home in about an hour and a half but then 3 1/2 hours later.....

We started at the grocery store. As I was loading produce and grapes in the cart, Lauren decided the grapes looked awfully tasty and started helping herself to the bag I had selected. I took them out of her hands and tucked them in the corner of the cart since the grapes hadn't been washed yet and because we were paying by the pound and I felt it dishonest to let her eat away at the purchasing price. With no advanced warning, she let out an ear-splitting scream, the kind that made everyone in the produce section stop and see who had just broken their leg or gotten hit by a truck, and continued screaming like this across the store, flailing her arms, with a flood of tears and snot completely covering her face. That made the already over-priced produce all the less worthwhile to me.

We then went to Michael's, the craft store. I really think there should be a sign outside that says "CAUTION: Children under the age of 12 are to be brought in at the risk of their pinhead parents." I hadn't put Lauren in a cart because I figured we would be in an out of the store in 3 minutes flat and the aisle I had planned to be going down didn't have any breakables. While Camden and I were discussing which item he wanted, she had successfully stacked multiple piles of puzzles and buckets of kid's beads in the middle of the aisle in about 20 seconds. As I was quickly trying to put these away, she ran down the aisle and disappeared out of sight. The next thing I saw were 3 or 4 hard rubber balls bouncing down the end of the aisle towards whatever unknowns lay in the neighboring aisles. I hollered at Camden to finish putting the buckets away as I got up to chase her down, bracing for the sound of a crash that I was sure would be caused by the flying balls. By now she was about 3 aisles over, oohing and aahing over the pretties that she had pulled off those shelves. When I picked her up, she did the limp noodle and with an arching back starting screaming and flailing her arms again. I'm sure a picture of a 7 month pregnant woman struggling like this could have gone on the front of the Planned Parenthood brochure. As I tried to hurry the boys along, Luke was looking at me with hooded moody eyes because I had told him no on something he wanted to buy and was dragging his feet, walking absurdly slow, muttering things like, "I'm never ever going to take a nap with you ever again. I HATE this store." Ofcourse at the checkout line they have every breakable and candy right on shelves that are 2 1/2 feet tall. I really think they plan on part of their yearly revenue coming from opened candy packages and broken items coming from the long waits in the checkout lines. And then of course, the lady in front of me took her dear sweet time as my kids continued their rampage.

I decided to put my brain on as I went into Kohl's and buckled her into her stroller. She was so ticked off at her restraint that as we passed every rack with clothing, she reached out and yanked two or three items off each rack onto the floor as she practiced her best soprano screech. After successfully leaving a path of death and destruction in the kid's clothing department, we headed to the shoe department. For some unknown reason, the kids immediately all took off their shoes and socks and started running around the shoe department like barefooted little savages. While I browsed the aisles for church shoes for my kids, Lauren then emptied the contents of my entire purse on the floor and had pulled a number of shoe boxes off the shelf that she thought she needed to try on. Camden was trying so hard to be a help trying to bring her back but she thought they had started a super awesome game of chase and darted under and between the racks with clothing, shrieking and hiding, also pulling clothes off the hangers. We couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Finally Costco got the pleasure of our presence. After I beelined it through the store, we sat down to eat lunch and Lauren promptly lay face-down on the floor, swimming the imaginary breast stroke, as she munched on her churro. I got quite a few puzzled and disgusted looks from my neighboring lunchers but by now I didn't care what kind of dangerous unseens she was probably picking up with her food. I figured as long as she wasn't destroying anything or screaming bloody murder, that was going to be just fine.

After my heart rate came down to a level safe for pregnancy, I was able to laugh about it as I was telling Dennis all of this.

Then I thought of the time when Luke was doing the potty dance at Costco and Camden took him by the hand and offered to take him to the restroom for me. He gently led him to the men's bathroom and as I stood outside, I could hear him patiently giving him instructions and helping him pull his pants up and wash his hands. I couldn't be more proud or grateful to my little man.

Then I thought of Luke that evening with beaming eyes giving me the multi-colored heart he had made for me out of beads, followed by an unsolicited bear hug and an "I love you, Mom."

Finally I thought of Lauren doing the Hokie Pokie during Family Home Evening and how cute she looked shaking her little booty while she poked her index fingers in the air and went in circles with a smile and giggle that melted my heart.

That's when I thought, no matter how hard this gets, it really is all worthwhile. Not just in the end, but now- today. I thought of President Hinckley who said, "I promise you that what appears today to be a sacrifice will prove to be the greatest investment that you will ever make."

On a more serious note, my sister did have to go through a real thing that mommy's nightmares are made of as her baby went through surgery yesterday to remove an adrenal mass. How frightening. We are all praying for a swift and complete recovery for little Jenna.

Luke's Boyfriend

Today Luke and I went to school to have lunch with Camden. In an effort to be especially health conscious, we picked up a pizza, some twinkies and a slushie and headed to the school.

Each time we've gone, my favorite part is the way he smiles at us when he sees us enter the cafeteria. It's like he's just won the lottery and he excitedly points me out to his friends. What a way to make someone feel like a superhero.

Today as we were eating, a little girl behind us said something to her friend about her boyfriend. Camden and some of the other boys turned around teasing her about having a boyfriend and made sure she knew how gross they thought that was.

Luke, who didn't want to be left out of the excitement, yelled out to the group of kids, "Oh yeah? Well I have a boyfriend! He's right here!" as he proudly put his arm around Camden's shoulder. Camden looked a little horrified as his friends started to snicker and said, "Ewww! No! I'm not your boyfriend!" But Luke just kept grinning with his arm around his brother's shoulder saying, "Yep! He's my boyfriend!" Camden figured there wasn't anything he could say to change Luke's mind so he turned back to his pizza and tried to change the topic.

I thought that was just about the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Kid Compliments

One of the things that cracks me up the most about kids are their ideas of compliments. A few days ago Camden told me in amazement that after eating the cafeteria food at school, my food actually tastes good. Wow, thanks. If it makes my food seem good, then that's the best $1.75 I spend each day.

We've come a long way with Camden and his eating. When he was about 2 years old, he was easily the pickiest eater I had ever heard of or come across. In 2006, my friend took this picture of Camden at her house as he was eating yogurt- that fruity kid yogurt that tastes like candy, nonetheless. Getting him to eat anything other than pretzels, fruit snacks, or warm milk from a bottle was nearly impossible and involved tears (both mine and his), threats, and extreme frustration. Even though this picture was taken 5 years ago, he still often makes this face when he's eating my food.

Then the other day, Luke affectionately rubbed my belly and seeming genuinely impressed said (actually it was more like singing), "Wow mom, you're suuuuuuuure getting fat!"

I told him that sometimes it makes people feel bad when you point out things like that to them. He looked thoughtful and I was hopeful that he had internalized what I had told him when he said, "But your belly looks fat- kinda like Aunt Cristina's and that guy at church!" (Cristina is just about ready to have a baby too). The story about the "guy at church" is one where I wanted to curl up in a ball under the water fountain we were standing next to when he so subtly pointed and yelled out his observation to everyone around him, including the poor guy.

I guess I'll take what I can get, right?

Monster Trucks and more

Yesterday Dennis took the boys to the Monster Truck show that came through town. The boys first discovered an interest (obsession) in them about a year ago when they watched a Discovery Channel documentary on them. Since then, I've been told multiple times by Luke that it would be so super duper awesome if we turned our van into a monster truck. They've been talking about the show non-stop and counting down the days for the past two weeks since Dennis bought the tickets.

Poor Luke was so tired at the end that he zonked. Thank goodness we had these ear muffs that we borrowed from some friends.

On a side note, I feel as though I'm just leaving the "golden stage" in pregnancy- the stage right in the middle, after the morning sickness and fatigue pass and before the sheer size and weight of my belly becomes more than my 5'3" frame can handle. There is definitely something to be said about pregnancy as the years pass. Even though I'm only 29, I can definitely tell that my body just doesn't have the energy at the end of the day that it used to. I'm sure I can factor in chasing three kids around into that. There are days that I swear I'm going to cocoon myself into my bed at the end of the day and not come out for another 6 months. Today was definitely one of those days. Working in the nursery at church when you're 6 months pregnant with your fourth child just doesn't have the spark that it used to, that's for sure. I'm sure it didn't help that I probably heard a half a dozen comments about how I'm really starting to "poke out" and really look pregnant. No matter how many kids I have, and no matter how much I know that that's to be expected, I always feel a little whalish when I hear that.

I thought for sure that by now, especially after days like this, I would be dying to get back to work and combing the classifieds, but surprisingly, the longer I'm out of the work force (more specifically the hospitals) the less appealing it seems. I must say that I am so grateful that Heavenly Father has changed my heart and has eliminated the desire to be working outside the home. I have found that despite the exhaustion and endless testing of my patience, my role as a stay-at-home mom is feeling more and more rewarding.