There has been so much this past week. Too much. There has been deep, bone-piercing sorrow. The kind of sorrow that has you down on your knees sobbing, begging for relief. There has been fear. The kind that sits right in your throat, the one that makes you want to scream, but you can't because there is no room for the yell to get out past the fear that is strangling you. And there has been joy, the sweet joy that steals your breath and makes you feel so much hope for tomorrow.
That's what I am holding on to. Some of these sorrows and fears you may already know, but they are not mine to tell. They belong more to other people who have felt them more deeply than me this past week. Some you do not know and these have been mine, but they are still causing too much sorrow and fear to share them with anyone but my husband, who is so sweet to listen to me and understand this pain. And of course, I have shared them with my Heavenly Father. As I have dealt with many decisions in the past week I have prayed so much, and I am so grateful for the calm comforting spirit that I have felt.
But there is also so much joy. Right now, my joy is bittersweet. Again, I still cannot share this with anyone but my husband because of the mix of emotions it brings flooding out. No, this I am saving for the moment when it brings only joy. But for now, I will share that it brings hope.
Most of my hopes are for my children. You mothers, future mothers, and mothers-at-heart, you all understand this. We have so many hopes for them. So much that we want for them. At times it bubbles up inside you, and threatens to come bursting forth with tears and laughter. There is so much.
I hope I raise good children who turn into good people. I hope they are polite. I hope they remember to say please and thank you. I hope Layla doesn't pick her nose in nursery. I hope they share. I hope they have friends. I hope they use nice words and do not make fun of anyone. I hope they don't get made fun of. I hope they are respectful. I hope they are dependable.
You know it goes deeper than that.
I hope they live in a safer, happier world than we do now. I hope they do their part to contribute to society. I hope they help others. I hope that when they see someone in need they offer their assitance. I hope they make the world better.
I hope they are happy. I hope they have so much happiness in their lives. I hope that even in times of grief and sorrow, they know that happiness is just around the corner.
I hope they forgive. I hope they forgive me on the days, and there are many, when I am not the mom I want to be. Not the mom they deserve. I hope they learn to turn the other cheek and forgive everyone. I hope they know the wisdom in forgiveness. I hope they know to seek forgiveness when they have made mistakes.
I hope they know and love Heavenly Father. I hope they realize who they really are, and live to their full potential as sons and daughters of God. I hope that they have a testimony strong enough to endure. I hope they remain true and faithful, and go to the temple. I hope they understand how important the gospel is in being truly happy.
I hope they know I love them. I hope they know that when they were babies I would just stare at them while they slept, and think of all my hopes for them. I hope they know that their dad loves them. I hope they know that Kelly and I consider them in every decision we make. I hope they know that we will always love them, no matter what. I hope they will always remember the importance of family, both the family they have now and the families they will have in the future.
I hope they love.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
The Man I Love
So, in honor of the upcoming Father's Day, I wanted to write a little bit about the man I love. Without him, I would not be the person I am. I want to share who he is with all of you.
My husband, Kelly, is an amazing father. He loves his kids with such devotion, I think he thinks they can do anything (and rightly so, I think this too). They absolutely adore him. In fact, when Layla woke up from surgery, she did not want me, but her she screamed her head off for her Dad. In fact, it was so awful that they let me take her out of recovery early and into the waiting room to be with her dad (who was in the waiting room because they would not allow Cal into recovery). When he leaves for work in the morning I hear for a good, solid thirty minutes, "Oh, Daddy. My Daddy. Daddy is gone. I miss Daddy." from Layla. On bad days, she stands at the door and cries. Cal lights up when he sees him. Of course, "dada" was his first word, and it seemed as though he knew what it meant from the moment he said it. The first time he said it he was looking right at Kelly. Kelly puts fatherhood as one of his highest priorities. He makes sure our kids know him, and know that he loves them.
He is wonderful at making memories. For mother's day we tried a new pizza place that I had been dying to try. When we were seated the man at the table to the side of us was wearing a shirt with a skeleton on it. It scared Layla so bad that she would not sit in the restaurant. I suggested laying the seats down in our van and eating in the parking lot. He happily agreed, even though that meant a good fifteen minutes of cleaning out the van before we could lay the seats down. He happily sang the "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore..." song (which Layla has since named "the pizza picnic song"). He is great at turning little moments into fun memories that I know the kids and I will cherish for a lifetime.
Speaking of our van, I love that he doesn't care that I dinged the door the first week we had it. Or that I unknowingly was denting the back of it up every time I closed it in the wrong spot. It wasn't until I noticed it and said "Our van has a bunch of little dents in it in the back" that he told me what it was from. He doesn't say anything when he opens the side door and a ton of toys, marshmallows, and sippy cups come cascading out at him (even though if you look in his car it is typically pristine and orderly).
He is an amazing husband. He knows me. He knows that I lose everything. He gave me a key finder for Christmas that came with two key chains. When I offered one to him he said that he got one for my keys and one for my wallet. I loved that gift the most this year, simply because it was a reminder of how much he knows me. He knows that I hate to pump gas, and he tries to make sure that I never have to do that. He knows that I worry if I call him and he doesn't answer, so he will text me right away and let me know why he can't answer his phone. He knows that when we go on a date I will inevitably ask "do you think they'll be okay?" at least ten times before we get to the end of the street, and he answers "yes, they'll be just fine" every single time. He knows that I love taking the first drink of a soda right after it has been opened, and without even thinking he will open his drink and hand it to me.
I love that I know him. I know he hates to have bare feet, and it goes beyond hating it to simply not being able to do it if tile is involved. I know that he claims garlic makes him sick, but I can sneak it into certain dishes without him knowing. I know that cilantro really does make him sick. I know that he doesn't like sweets, but if he decides to have them he eats an abnormally large amount of them in one sitting (a whole box of ice cream drumsticks). I know that he is allergic to shellfish, but he loves crab legs. I know that he has to have his socks, belt, and shoes match his outfit. I know that he hates to have gel in his hair when he sleeps. I know that if he falls asleep on his back he will inevitably snore, and when I wake him up to ask him to roll over, there is a good chance he will fall back to sleep before he actually rolls over. I know he loves mafia movies. I know he would do anything for me and our kids.
He is such a generous person. In fact, he is the most generous person I have ever met. He does not have any of the "take care of myself first" mentality. He makes sure the kids and I have what we need and want, and then he would literally give away every last penny if I would let him. Not only does he give money or material goods to people, but he generously gives of his time. He is truly concerned with the welfare of others. That is one of the things that makes him so great at what he does. He works for a company that provides living assistance to individuals with mental handicaps. There are days (and these days are often) that he works really long hours, and then when the weekends come around he will usually get at least eight work related calls over the weekend. I know he misses me and the kids, but I also know that he is really doing everything he can for the individuals he serves. I know he cares about them and wants to make a difference in their lives. He is good at his job, and it is because he is doing something that is important to him, helping others.
He is hilarious. Seriously. And to be honest, there are times when I hate it. I hate it when I want to be mad but he does some little thing that makes me laugh. I hate it when he won't stop teasing me, and I can't help but laugh at him, which then makes him only tease that much more. But I love it. I love that he can get an entire room to laugh. I love that he has an unbelievably quick response, and I love his form of sarcasm.
He has a strong and sold testimony of the the gospel of Jesus Christ. He believes in Christ and the atonement with a surety that cannot be shaken. He knows that it is through this act, this act of complete and total unselfish love given to us by our Savior, that we can repent and return to live as a family with our Heavenly Father. And he wants to share this knowledge. He wants everyone to know of the happiness that comes with this knowledge. He served a mission in Taiwan and was an amazing missionary. He loved his mission president and the mission president's wife, and they loved him. I have had the opportunity to meet with his mission president twice, and I love to hear him talk about Kelly. I love Kelly's stories from his mission. I love that he taught me the gospel, not only by answering my questions, but by showing me how to live it. By showing me exactly what he believes by his actions.
I love my husband, and I am so very grateful for him. He helps me every day to become the person and the mother I want to be. And he doesn't mention all the many times that I fall short of where I want to be.
Thanks for letting me share a little bit about the amazing man that I married. Tell me a little bit about your husband or wife, or if you are not married about someone important in your life. What do you know about them that no one else does? I love that, those little intimate details that seem like they are something so simple, that no one else knows. Those small things are the things that make me realize that while our relationship isn't perfect, it is ours and it is what we make it.
My husband, Kelly, is an amazing father. He loves his kids with such devotion, I think he thinks they can do anything (and rightly so, I think this too). They absolutely adore him. In fact, when Layla woke up from surgery, she did not want me, but her she screamed her head off for her Dad. In fact, it was so awful that they let me take her out of recovery early and into the waiting room to be with her dad (who was in the waiting room because they would not allow Cal into recovery). When he leaves for work in the morning I hear for a good, solid thirty minutes, "Oh, Daddy. My Daddy. Daddy is gone. I miss Daddy." from Layla. On bad days, she stands at the door and cries. Cal lights up when he sees him. Of course, "dada" was his first word, and it seemed as though he knew what it meant from the moment he said it. The first time he said it he was looking right at Kelly. Kelly puts fatherhood as one of his highest priorities. He makes sure our kids know him, and know that he loves them.
He is wonderful at making memories. For mother's day we tried a new pizza place that I had been dying to try. When we were seated the man at the table to the side of us was wearing a shirt with a skeleton on it. It scared Layla so bad that she would not sit in the restaurant. I suggested laying the seats down in our van and eating in the parking lot. He happily agreed, even though that meant a good fifteen minutes of cleaning out the van before we could lay the seats down. He happily sang the "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore..." song (which Layla has since named "the pizza picnic song"). He is great at turning little moments into fun memories that I know the kids and I will cherish for a lifetime.
Speaking of our van, I love that he doesn't care that I dinged the door the first week we had it. Or that I unknowingly was denting the back of it up every time I closed it in the wrong spot. It wasn't until I noticed it and said "Our van has a bunch of little dents in it in the back" that he told me what it was from. He doesn't say anything when he opens the side door and a ton of toys, marshmallows, and sippy cups come cascading out at him (even though if you look in his car it is typically pristine and orderly).
He is an amazing husband. He knows me. He knows that I lose everything. He gave me a key finder for Christmas that came with two key chains. When I offered one to him he said that he got one for my keys and one for my wallet. I loved that gift the most this year, simply because it was a reminder of how much he knows me. He knows that I hate to pump gas, and he tries to make sure that I never have to do that. He knows that I worry if I call him and he doesn't answer, so he will text me right away and let me know why he can't answer his phone. He knows that when we go on a date I will inevitably ask "do you think they'll be okay?" at least ten times before we get to the end of the street, and he answers "yes, they'll be just fine" every single time. He knows that I love taking the first drink of a soda right after it has been opened, and without even thinking he will open his drink and hand it to me.
I love that I know him. I know he hates to have bare feet, and it goes beyond hating it to simply not being able to do it if tile is involved. I know that he claims garlic makes him sick, but I can sneak it into certain dishes without him knowing. I know that cilantro really does make him sick. I know that he doesn't like sweets, but if he decides to have them he eats an abnormally large amount of them in one sitting (a whole box of ice cream drumsticks). I know that he is allergic to shellfish, but he loves crab legs. I know that he has to have his socks, belt, and shoes match his outfit. I know that he hates to have gel in his hair when he sleeps. I know that if he falls asleep on his back he will inevitably snore, and when I wake him up to ask him to roll over, there is a good chance he will fall back to sleep before he actually rolls over. I know he loves mafia movies. I know he would do anything for me and our kids.
He is such a generous person. In fact, he is the most generous person I have ever met. He does not have any of the "take care of myself first" mentality. He makes sure the kids and I have what we need and want, and then he would literally give away every last penny if I would let him. Not only does he give money or material goods to people, but he generously gives of his time. He is truly concerned with the welfare of others. That is one of the things that makes him so great at what he does. He works for a company that provides living assistance to individuals with mental handicaps. There are days (and these days are often) that he works really long hours, and then when the weekends come around he will usually get at least eight work related calls over the weekend. I know he misses me and the kids, but I also know that he is really doing everything he can for the individuals he serves. I know he cares about them and wants to make a difference in their lives. He is good at his job, and it is because he is doing something that is important to him, helping others.
He is hilarious. Seriously. And to be honest, there are times when I hate it. I hate it when I want to be mad but he does some little thing that makes me laugh. I hate it when he won't stop teasing me, and I can't help but laugh at him, which then makes him only tease that much more. But I love it. I love that he can get an entire room to laugh. I love that he has an unbelievably quick response, and I love his form of sarcasm.
He has a strong and sold testimony of the the gospel of Jesus Christ. He believes in Christ and the atonement with a surety that cannot be shaken. He knows that it is through this act, this act of complete and total unselfish love given to us by our Savior, that we can repent and return to live as a family with our Heavenly Father. And he wants to share this knowledge. He wants everyone to know of the happiness that comes with this knowledge. He served a mission in Taiwan and was an amazing missionary. He loved his mission president and the mission president's wife, and they loved him. I have had the opportunity to meet with his mission president twice, and I love to hear him talk about Kelly. I love Kelly's stories from his mission. I love that he taught me the gospel, not only by answering my questions, but by showing me how to live it. By showing me exactly what he believes by his actions.
I love my husband, and I am so very grateful for him. He helps me every day to become the person and the mother I want to be. And he doesn't mention all the many times that I fall short of where I want to be.
Thanks for letting me share a little bit about the amazing man that I married. Tell me a little bit about your husband or wife, or if you are not married about someone important in your life. What do you know about them that no one else does? I love that, those little intimate details that seem like they are something so simple, that no one else knows. Those small things are the things that make me realize that while our relationship isn't perfect, it is ours and it is what we make it.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
To Mothers
I am so bummed that I let a month go by without blogging! I have been so busy, but so have all of you so I won't bore you with my details! :)
Because this blog is all about being a mama, I could not let mother's day go unmentioned. This post is for moms everywhere!
For new moms who have so much excitement and nerves all bundled into one. Who have tiny, precious, quiet bundles that are all frog legs and yawns. I know you hear this a million times a day, but they grow up so fast. Honestly, I can't reconcile Layla and brand-new baby Layla as the same person. You will never look back and say, "I held them too much when they were babies." Kelly and I literally held Layla and Cal every single possible second, and it still isn't enough. I love my kids and who they are becoming, but oh there are times when I would love to go back to those snuggly newborn days. My other piece of advice (not that you need it) is to trust your insticts. You are the mom, which automatically gives you some innate capability of understanding your children and what they need. Go with it. And even with this innate ability, there will still be times when you want to throw your hands up in the air and say "I don't get it. I give up." Don't worry, if you feel that way so does everyone else. And you know what? You won't give up. Because you are a mother. You are strong. And you know that this will pass and your child will feel your love all the more for you enduring the difficult times. You can do it.
To moms of toddlers, oh how I feel for you! You are brave, brave women! It takes so much to tackle these days head on. There are times when I want to crawl under my covers and tell Layla, "You go ahead and run the house" But who am I kidding? I don't have to crawl under the covers, Layla runs the house whether I'm there or not! And I love it! I love the chaos. I love the craziness. The happy-to-mad-to-happy-again all in fifteen seconds. It is the toughest thing I have ever done, but I know what it is making me become. I know that if I can make it through this there will eventually be some sort of peace, even if only for a moment. You moms of toddlers rock! You make crazy meals of space ships (chicken nuggets), magic sticks (carrots), trees (what else? Broccoli), and every other sort of thing your toddler can imagine because you know that crazy named food is so much more fun to eat than regular food. You clean up five million messes, and that is just before breakfast. You find ways to amuse your toddler while shopping, in fact the entire store at some point has probably heard your rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus", sung by various items of produce and shampoo. You all amaze me!
To mothers of school kids, I am in awe. You all are in a stage of your life that just doesn't seem fathomable to me. You are coming out of the all-the-time-mommy funk, and can I just say you look amazing! Not that you are no longer an all-the-time-mommy because you are! You champion for better education for your kids. You drive carpools.You pack lunches and cook meals and love your kids. But you are so dang beautiful in your cordinating outfits, and may I add that these clothes do not have spit-up, baby food, or finger prints on them. You wear make-up and do your hair, and I am positive that you shower a whole lot more than I do. I look up to you. You have it together. You are a long time veteran, and you know how to do it. I aspire to be more like you.
To my mother-in-law who raised twelve awesome children, inculding my amazing husband. I am grateful that she taught him the gospel. I am thankful that because of her he has faith in Jesus Christ. I am grateful that she raised my husband to have charity and compassion. I am thankful that she raised a close-knit family, and that they are my family too. I am learning that the more people who love my children, the better. And I am thankful that she loves my children.
To my mom, who was always, and still is, there to listen to me. Somehow my mom has the capability of knowing when I am feeling my worst, and she always asks the right question that makes me burst into tears. I know that even if no one else in the world will feel sorry for me, my mom will. No matter what, she will sympathize with me and then help me to try to look at the situation more positively. I am grateful for her being an awesome mema to my children and for the love she shows them!
To women who want to be mothers, but for some reason do not or cannot have children of their own, you are still a mother. It takes many people to mother a child. Layla loves and looks up to every single one of her aunts, church leaders, and teachers. You are helping to mother my children. You show amazing mothering qualities with your nurturing abilities. You have fun with my children, and for that I am forever grateful. I know I cannot understand your pain, but I do know what it is like to ache for a child of your own. I know what it is like to experience heartbreak, and disappointment. Please know that you are mothers. You are vitally important in the lives of my children.
To mothers everywhere. In all different shapes and sizes. In different stages of life. You are all so beautiful. You have so many stories to tell. So much information to share. I love talking to mothers and getting their pearls of wisdom. I have tried so many new ideas taken from other mamas, and they work! You all know your stuff. You work, you play, you get covered in pee and poo. You clean up puke. You wipe tears and noses. You do all of this with love because you know. You know you are a mother, and you know what matters. You know you are entrusted with these precious gifts from Heavenly Father. You love.
And of course, to my children. Without these two beautiful wonders I would not be who I am. They give me so much that I feel like I am cheating them, because there is no way that I am giving them as much as they are giving me. They teach me about myself, but they also teach me about humanity. It is from loving them that I am learning to be a little kinder to everyone I meet. It is because I care for them that I can care for others.
I am grateful to be a mother.
Because this blog is all about being a mama, I could not let mother's day go unmentioned. This post is for moms everywhere!
For new moms who have so much excitement and nerves all bundled into one. Who have tiny, precious, quiet bundles that are all frog legs and yawns. I know you hear this a million times a day, but they grow up so fast. Honestly, I can't reconcile Layla and brand-new baby Layla as the same person. You will never look back and say, "I held them too much when they were babies." Kelly and I literally held Layla and Cal every single possible second, and it still isn't enough. I love my kids and who they are becoming, but oh there are times when I would love to go back to those snuggly newborn days. My other piece of advice (not that you need it) is to trust your insticts. You are the mom, which automatically gives you some innate capability of understanding your children and what they need. Go with it. And even with this innate ability, there will still be times when you want to throw your hands up in the air and say "I don't get it. I give up." Don't worry, if you feel that way so does everyone else. And you know what? You won't give up. Because you are a mother. You are strong. And you know that this will pass and your child will feel your love all the more for you enduring the difficult times. You can do it.
To moms of toddlers, oh how I feel for you! You are brave, brave women! It takes so much to tackle these days head on. There are times when I want to crawl under my covers and tell Layla, "You go ahead and run the house" But who am I kidding? I don't have to crawl under the covers, Layla runs the house whether I'm there or not! And I love it! I love the chaos. I love the craziness. The happy-to-mad-to-happy-again all in fifteen seconds. It is the toughest thing I have ever done, but I know what it is making me become. I know that if I can make it through this there will eventually be some sort of peace, even if only for a moment. You moms of toddlers rock! You make crazy meals of space ships (chicken nuggets), magic sticks (carrots), trees (what else? Broccoli), and every other sort of thing your toddler can imagine because you know that crazy named food is so much more fun to eat than regular food. You clean up five million messes, and that is just before breakfast. You find ways to amuse your toddler while shopping, in fact the entire store at some point has probably heard your rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus", sung by various items of produce and shampoo. You all amaze me!
To mothers of school kids, I am in awe. You all are in a stage of your life that just doesn't seem fathomable to me. You are coming out of the all-the-time-mommy funk, and can I just say you look amazing! Not that you are no longer an all-the-time-mommy because you are! You champion for better education for your kids. You drive carpools.You pack lunches and cook meals and love your kids. But you are so dang beautiful in your cordinating outfits, and may I add that these clothes do not have spit-up, baby food, or finger prints on them. You wear make-up and do your hair, and I am positive that you shower a whole lot more than I do. I look up to you. You have it together. You are a long time veteran, and you know how to do it. I aspire to be more like you.
To my mother-in-law who raised twelve awesome children, inculding my amazing husband. I am grateful that she taught him the gospel. I am thankful that because of her he has faith in Jesus Christ. I am grateful that she raised my husband to have charity and compassion. I am thankful that she raised a close-knit family, and that they are my family too. I am learning that the more people who love my children, the better. And I am thankful that she loves my children.
To my mom, who was always, and still is, there to listen to me. Somehow my mom has the capability of knowing when I am feeling my worst, and she always asks the right question that makes me burst into tears. I know that even if no one else in the world will feel sorry for me, my mom will. No matter what, she will sympathize with me and then help me to try to look at the situation more positively. I am grateful for her being an awesome mema to my children and for the love she shows them!
To women who want to be mothers, but for some reason do not or cannot have children of their own, you are still a mother. It takes many people to mother a child. Layla loves and looks up to every single one of her aunts, church leaders, and teachers. You are helping to mother my children. You show amazing mothering qualities with your nurturing abilities. You have fun with my children, and for that I am forever grateful. I know I cannot understand your pain, but I do know what it is like to ache for a child of your own. I know what it is like to experience heartbreak, and disappointment. Please know that you are mothers. You are vitally important in the lives of my children.
To mothers everywhere. In all different shapes and sizes. In different stages of life. You are all so beautiful. You have so many stories to tell. So much information to share. I love talking to mothers and getting their pearls of wisdom. I have tried so many new ideas taken from other mamas, and they work! You all know your stuff. You work, you play, you get covered in pee and poo. You clean up puke. You wipe tears and noses. You do all of this with love because you know. You know you are a mother, and you know what matters. You know you are entrusted with these precious gifts from Heavenly Father. You love.
And of course, to my children. Without these two beautiful wonders I would not be who I am. They give me so much that I feel like I am cheating them, because there is no way that I am giving them as much as they are giving me. They teach me about myself, but they also teach me about humanity. It is from loving them that I am learning to be a little kinder to everyone I meet. It is because I care for them that I can care for others.
I am grateful to be a mother.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Changed but Not Ruined
Last week I was with my husband, Kelly, and we stopped in to get his hair cut. While we were there Layla asked to get her hair cut. When Kelly was done the girl that did his hair took Layla back. I went back to help her get all situated in the chair. While I was helping her the guy behind us mentioned to his client what a cute kid Layla is. That totally set his client off on how she is so glad she's not a grandma. She said she discussed with her daughter all the reasons her daughter should wait to have kids, including the reason that kids ruin your life. It was so hard for me to not turn around and say, "You said what to your daughter?" Imagine your mother telling you that kids will ruin your life?
My kids have changed my life. Changed it in every way possible, big ways, small ways, monumental ways. Ways that I still can't even understand. But ruined? No way. Never. They have taught me so much already. In fact, in their short little lives they have already turned into my greatest teachers.
They have taught me a new language. For instance, when Cal starts screaming and the screams end higher than they started, it means he's hungry. When he laughs and gasps at the same time, it means he wants me to put my face close to his and let him give me a kiss on my cheek. When Layla tells me she wants a blue drink it means she wants Gatorade, unless we're at Target. A blue drink at Target means an icee, and it doesn't mean it has to be blue. She also likes red blue drinks. If she's eating a corn dog and she says she wants it cut ty ty, that means she wants me to cut it in half and then into pieces with a knife with a pink handle (yes, it has to be the pink handled knife).
They have taught me patience. By walking with Cal in the middle of the night when he refuses to sleep (mind you, this is usually around 1am, right after his night owl sis has gone to sleep) I learn patience. Patience that I never knew existed. When Layla is screaming for the zillionth time in one day, I learn patience. Not that I am perfectly patient every time, but I am learning, and thankfully my kids are forgiving.
I have also learned strength from my children. They have shown me that I possess so much more strength than I ever knew I had. The strength to stand up for them, and ensure that they have a voice. The strength to battle with doctors and nurses for Layla to make sure that her symptoms are understood and her doctors will respond appropriately. Strength to leave Layla in nursery and stand outside the door while I listen to her cry, when all I want to do is swoop in there and scoop her up (thankfully she loves nursery now and doesn't cry anymore). Strength to make good decisions that I know will benefit them, even if they are difficult now. Plus, they have taught me that I really do have the physical strength to walk through the parking lot holding 24 lbs Layla with one arm and 16 lbs Cal with the other, along with a diaper bag and groceries. :)
Mostly, they have taught me about love. Love that I never could have imagined. Love that brings tears to my eyes just to think about it. Love that means I don't cringe when Layla throws up on me because she doesn't know how to throw up in the toilet yet. Love that means I can get up and snuggle with Cal and enjoy time when it is just him and I when he wakes up early, even though I have only been asleep for about 2 hours. Love that teaches me about Heavenly Father, and how He loves not only me, but my children. How He loves us all, with a love even stronger than how we love our kids. This love that He has for me, for us all, is a hard concept to grasp, but loving my kids has made it a little more understandable.
I am so grateful for them, and all that they teach me. I hope that somewhere in there, I am teaching them too. So do kids ruin your life? Never. They change it every day. Each day I am a different person because of them. Would I trade it? Not for anything. I love them, and even on bad days, they are my greatest joy. They bring Kelly and I so much happiness and laughter, I could not imagine, I do not want to imagine, what my life would be like without them.
So fifty year old lady in the Hello Kitty shirt, leopard print pants, and fedora, guess what? Your daughter did not ruin your life. Her children will not ruin your life, or hers. Perhaps it is time to do away with the wardrobe not even a fifteen year old should have, and move on. Let your daughter, and if one day she has kids, your grandchildren change you. It is amazing how much love kids give when they are shown a little bit in return.
My kids have changed my life. Changed it in every way possible, big ways, small ways, monumental ways. Ways that I still can't even understand. But ruined? No way. Never. They have taught me so much already. In fact, in their short little lives they have already turned into my greatest teachers.
They have taught me a new language. For instance, when Cal starts screaming and the screams end higher than they started, it means he's hungry. When he laughs and gasps at the same time, it means he wants me to put my face close to his and let him give me a kiss on my cheek. When Layla tells me she wants a blue drink it means she wants Gatorade, unless we're at Target. A blue drink at Target means an icee, and it doesn't mean it has to be blue. She also likes red blue drinks. If she's eating a corn dog and she says she wants it cut ty ty, that means she wants me to cut it in half and then into pieces with a knife with a pink handle (yes, it has to be the pink handled knife).
They have taught me patience. By walking with Cal in the middle of the night when he refuses to sleep (mind you, this is usually around 1am, right after his night owl sis has gone to sleep) I learn patience. Patience that I never knew existed. When Layla is screaming for the zillionth time in one day, I learn patience. Not that I am perfectly patient every time, but I am learning, and thankfully my kids are forgiving.
I have also learned strength from my children. They have shown me that I possess so much more strength than I ever knew I had. The strength to stand up for them, and ensure that they have a voice. The strength to battle with doctors and nurses for Layla to make sure that her symptoms are understood and her doctors will respond appropriately. Strength to leave Layla in nursery and stand outside the door while I listen to her cry, when all I want to do is swoop in there and scoop her up (thankfully she loves nursery now and doesn't cry anymore). Strength to make good decisions that I know will benefit them, even if they are difficult now. Plus, they have taught me that I really do have the physical strength to walk through the parking lot holding 24 lbs Layla with one arm and 16 lbs Cal with the other, along with a diaper bag and groceries. :)
Mostly, they have taught me about love. Love that I never could have imagined. Love that brings tears to my eyes just to think about it. Love that means I don't cringe when Layla throws up on me because she doesn't know how to throw up in the toilet yet. Love that means I can get up and snuggle with Cal and enjoy time when it is just him and I when he wakes up early, even though I have only been asleep for about 2 hours. Love that teaches me about Heavenly Father, and how He loves not only me, but my children. How He loves us all, with a love even stronger than how we love our kids. This love that He has for me, for us all, is a hard concept to grasp, but loving my kids has made it a little more understandable.
I am so grateful for them, and all that they teach me. I hope that somewhere in there, I am teaching them too. So do kids ruin your life? Never. They change it every day. Each day I am a different person because of them. Would I trade it? Not for anything. I love them, and even on bad days, they are my greatest joy. They bring Kelly and I so much happiness and laughter, I could not imagine, I do not want to imagine, what my life would be like without them.
So fifty year old lady in the Hello Kitty shirt, leopard print pants, and fedora, guess what? Your daughter did not ruin your life. Her children will not ruin your life, or hers. Perhaps it is time to do away with the wardrobe not even a fifteen year old should have, and move on. Let your daughter, and if one day she has kids, your grandchildren change you. It is amazing how much love kids give when they are shown a little bit in return.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Unstructured
I like my posts to be structured. I like them to have an obvious subject. I like that we can discuss this subject, and you can give me your feedback. Tonight, I have no structure. I am structureless. Unstructured.
That's how I'm feeling in my life lately. Unstructured, and to be honest, I'm not really sure why. Have you all experienced it? That funk, where you just feel like you are at a standstill. It's like you have so many different paths and you just stand there staring at them, unmoving. And while you stand there staring, these paths get further and further away. And you know, just know, that one of them is good. One of those paths is so spectacularly wonderful and you desperately want to be on it. But here's the catch, they all look the same at the beginning. So you're standing there, motionless, and these paths are somehow moving further away from you and you just want to scream "Stop! Just give me a minute to decide which path I want to take!"
But you can't. And even if you could, the paths wouldn't listen. So you you just have to make up your mind. And you know what? Eventually you realize, they are all wonderful. Some may take you to unexpected places, some might be a little rougher than others, but they will all teach you. And you will reach the destination if you keep trying. Some paths might lead you right back to where you started. But that's okay. You just need to learn some more.
That's what this is all about, learning. We learn every day. And I am learning to see the beauty in everything. I can see the obvious beauty in my daughter's strawberry stained smile, with her curly hair standing out all around her head like a little Einstein. I can see the beauty in my son's laughter and huge grin, when I just know that he is truly enjoying the moment and feeling only love. And then there is the less obvious beauty. Things like the beauty of heartache. When it hurts so bad, you think this pain can't possibly last one single second more. But it does. And you learn you can survive. There's beauty in that. Beauty in the new found strength, and beauty in the knowledge that you can do it.
So here's to the path, whichever one you choose. Here's to the long way, and the bumpy road. Here's to even getting lost a few times and having to start over. Here's to learning. Just know, you aren't on that path alone. We're all there. We are all sharing this experience together, for better or worse.
Maybe I do have a little bit of structure tonight after all.
That's how I'm feeling in my life lately. Unstructured, and to be honest, I'm not really sure why. Have you all experienced it? That funk, where you just feel like you are at a standstill. It's like you have so many different paths and you just stand there staring at them, unmoving. And while you stand there staring, these paths get further and further away. And you know, just know, that one of them is good. One of those paths is so spectacularly wonderful and you desperately want to be on it. But here's the catch, they all look the same at the beginning. So you're standing there, motionless, and these paths are somehow moving further away from you and you just want to scream "Stop! Just give me a minute to decide which path I want to take!"
But you can't. And even if you could, the paths wouldn't listen. So you you just have to make up your mind. And you know what? Eventually you realize, they are all wonderful. Some may take you to unexpected places, some might be a little rougher than others, but they will all teach you. And you will reach the destination if you keep trying. Some paths might lead you right back to where you started. But that's okay. You just need to learn some more.
That's what this is all about, learning. We learn every day. And I am learning to see the beauty in everything. I can see the obvious beauty in my daughter's strawberry stained smile, with her curly hair standing out all around her head like a little Einstein. I can see the beauty in my son's laughter and huge grin, when I just know that he is truly enjoying the moment and feeling only love. And then there is the less obvious beauty. Things like the beauty of heartache. When it hurts so bad, you think this pain can't possibly last one single second more. But it does. And you learn you can survive. There's beauty in that. Beauty in the new found strength, and beauty in the knowledge that you can do it.
So here's to the path, whichever one you choose. Here's to the long way, and the bumpy road. Here's to even getting lost a few times and having to start over. Here's to learning. Just know, you aren't on that path alone. We're all there. We are all sharing this experience together, for better or worse.
Maybe I do have a little bit of structure tonight after all.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Fearless
I have so many questions today, but before I get to them I have to take a minute to tell you what I did this past week! I'm so excited because it was crafty and messy! Layla and I made these adorable little chicks in a nest, out of peeps and chocolate covered pretzels. But that's not all, we also made yummy cake pops (which I proceeded to eat way too many of) that looked like Easter eggs. They were dipped in white chocolate and then Layla painted them with different colors of chocolate. I was covered in chocolate, as was Layla, and just to show you how crazy it got, Cal was even covered with chocolate at one point (much to his delight)! The best part? It was fun and I didn't flip out over the mess! Score one for mom!
Okay, with that out of the way...How do you raise fearless children? Do you even want to? I have thought about these questions a lot lately as I watch my sweet Layla growing up. Right now she, like pretty much every two year old, is fearless. I mean the mom's-having-yet-another-heart-attack fearless. The you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-get-down-from-there-this-instant fearless. To be honest, I love her even more for her reckless abandon.
My husband, Kelly, and I were talking about how we want to raise our kids. I am a majorly fearful person. I have so much anxiety over the simplest things. If there's something to worry about, rest assured I've got that covered. I wish it were different, but that's just me, that's always been me. I remember being scared to death in elementary school that my mom would forget me and I would be stuck at school forever (just so you know, I was never forgotten, that is so not my mom, but I worried nonetheless).
It seemed to me like my worry was always justified. For example, again in elementary school I was always too afraid to buy my lunch. I just had my mom pack me a lunch every day because I was unsure of how to buy school lunches. I will never forget that the one day I decided to buy my lunch was the day that the prices of lunches went up a dime. Our teacher explained that to us in the morning and told us it was okay if we didn't have enough money that day, but that we would need to bring the right amount from then on. I was so upset, I think I cried until lunch was over. Ridiculous, right?
As a mom these fears have grown. You know what I'm talking about. Will my children be good people? Will they contribute to society? What if I don't like who they marry? What if the who they marry doesn't like me? Will they get picked on in school? Will they get good grades? How will we afford college? How can I survive the two years my son will be gone on his mission? Will they know how much I love them? Will they know how much Heavenly Father loves them?
Oh, these fears are so much more real than buying a school lunch. The trick is to keep them from overtaking you. I know, I have those moments. Those moments when the fear is so real that it's right there in your throat, choking you. Those moments when I look into Layla's sweet eyes and know someday she will come to me with a broken heart, and I won't be able to fix it. The fear when I look at Cal and can see him in the future, asking girls on dates and driving.
But how do I keep my kids from having all the silly little fears that didn't seem so silly and little when I was a kid? I always thought that some fear was healthy, but then I had a really amazing conversation with Kelly, who wants our kids to be fearless. When he said this I have to admit, I lost it. I started shrieking at him about how fear can provide safety. He explained that he thinks knowledge can do the same thing, only more effectively than fear. It makes sense. He wants, and I ended up agreeing, our kids to know consequences and reality, but to not be afraid.
How do you feel about this? Do you think it is good to have a little bit of fear? Does it keep life balanced? If so, how do you keep it from getting out of control? What about being fearless? Do you think that is possible?
Oh yeah, those moments I mentioned? The ones where fear is strangling me? I have learned how to tell fear that my family rocks, and no matter what, we are all going to be just fine.
Okay, with that out of the way...How do you raise fearless children? Do you even want to? I have thought about these questions a lot lately as I watch my sweet Layla growing up. Right now she, like pretty much every two year old, is fearless. I mean the mom's-having-yet-another-heart-attack fearless. The you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-get-down-from-there-this-instant fearless. To be honest, I love her even more for her reckless abandon.
My husband, Kelly, and I were talking about how we want to raise our kids. I am a majorly fearful person. I have so much anxiety over the simplest things. If there's something to worry about, rest assured I've got that covered. I wish it were different, but that's just me, that's always been me. I remember being scared to death in elementary school that my mom would forget me and I would be stuck at school forever (just so you know, I was never forgotten, that is so not my mom, but I worried nonetheless).
It seemed to me like my worry was always justified. For example, again in elementary school I was always too afraid to buy my lunch. I just had my mom pack me a lunch every day because I was unsure of how to buy school lunches. I will never forget that the one day I decided to buy my lunch was the day that the prices of lunches went up a dime. Our teacher explained that to us in the morning and told us it was okay if we didn't have enough money that day, but that we would need to bring the right amount from then on. I was so upset, I think I cried until lunch was over. Ridiculous, right?
As a mom these fears have grown. You know what I'm talking about. Will my children be good people? Will they contribute to society? What if I don't like who they marry? What if the who they marry doesn't like me? Will they get picked on in school? Will they get good grades? How will we afford college? How can I survive the two years my son will be gone on his mission? Will they know how much I love them? Will they know how much Heavenly Father loves them?
Oh, these fears are so much more real than buying a school lunch. The trick is to keep them from overtaking you. I know, I have those moments. Those moments when the fear is so real that it's right there in your throat, choking you. Those moments when I look into Layla's sweet eyes and know someday she will come to me with a broken heart, and I won't be able to fix it. The fear when I look at Cal and can see him in the future, asking girls on dates and driving.
But how do I keep my kids from having all the silly little fears that didn't seem so silly and little when I was a kid? I always thought that some fear was healthy, but then I had a really amazing conversation with Kelly, who wants our kids to be fearless. When he said this I have to admit, I lost it. I started shrieking at him about how fear can provide safety. He explained that he thinks knowledge can do the same thing, only more effectively than fear. It makes sense. He wants, and I ended up agreeing, our kids to know consequences and reality, but to not be afraid.
How do you feel about this? Do you think it is good to have a little bit of fear? Does it keep life balanced? If so, how do you keep it from getting out of control? What about being fearless? Do you think that is possible?
Oh yeah, those moments I mentioned? The ones where fear is strangling me? I have learned how to tell fear that my family rocks, and no matter what, we are all going to be just fine.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Mommy Messes
I have a hard time dealing with the mess that comes with kids. In fact, I think that is the hardest thing about motherhood for me right now. I loathe the clean up that comes with meal time. And saying it out loud makes me feel like a bad mom. I have seen a gazillion moms hand a messy item over to their kids no problem and then clean them up in one quick swipe with a wipe, and somehow their kids are miraculously clean afterwards. I lack that mom gene. I cringe anytime I give my daughter anything messy (which at two is everything). I shudder when food rolls out of my son's mouth and into his neck. Am I the only mom who feels the overwhelming need to hose my kids down outside every time they eat? Layla had mac and cheese for lunch today and it was all over her hands, face, belly, legs...everywhere. Oh, and those moms who can get their kids squeaky clean with one quick wipe? How do they do it? It is a twenty minute ordeal for me! A twenty minute, scrubbing (from me), screaming (from Layla and Cal), patience losing (from all of us) ordeal. The best part? Finding dried nasty food in between their fingers just a few minutes later.
Oh the joys of motherhood. But I love it. I would love it more without the mess, but I do love it. I know all of you do too, that is what makes us want to do more and be more for our kids. I really want to hear from you, hear your thoughts and ideas, so if you are reading please keep commenting! I loved all of last week’s comments. It is comforting to hear that I am not alone in feeling a little behind! What was your week like?
Mine was spent cleaning up messes, food messes, art messes, poop messes (yes, that is plural for poop messes, and don't ask, I shudder even thinking about it). How do you handle all of the mess? What's your Mom secret for cleaning up? I know you all have some good tricks up your sleeve! How do you keep from constantly following along behind your kids wiping their hands off? Let me know, I need some major help in this area!
By the way, because it is just too sweet to pass up, last night a sleepy Layla was snuggled up next to me and just before she drifted off to sleep she looked up at me with her adorable big brown eyes and said, "I love you so much Mom." I live for moments like that. Those moments make everything better, even dried food between the fingers.
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