Love More

I love this child with all my heart. Everyday she walks out that door to go to school, I feel like she's walking away with my heart. Her struggles feel like mine. And I ache to help her be the kind of woman I know she has the potential of becoming. She has so many strengths. So many talents. But right now we are struggling tremendously. Our personalities are very similar, and then again, very different. She is very independent and strong willed. If she detects you pushing her in the slightest, she will push back with all her might and dig her heels in. Since I'm the one home all the time, she is in constant conflict with me over getting ready for school, doing her homework, practicing the piano, being nice to her siblings, and so on and so forth. The more I tell her to hurry along, the slower she gets, and the meaner her looks get as she walks by me. I feel like I've tried so very hard to be nice. I've read countless material about how to motivate her. I've made charts and come up with rewards that SHE picked and yet we are still back to ground zero. So last week, I resorted to prayer. I prayed like crazy, even in the shower that she would have the desire to be a good kid. I even talked to the teacher about ways to help her. But in the end, the only thing I keep going back to is to LOVE MORE!

I'm going to love that child into obedience. I'm going to love her regardless of how she performs at school. I'm going to leave nice notes in her lunch box. I'm going to remind her how much I love her as she jumps out of the car to go to school. I'm going to make her bed while she's at school to serve her. I'm going to make her favorite dinners. I'm going to love that child until she comes around. I can't change her, or make her like me, but I can soften her heart. I can show her that regardless of what she does, I'm going to love her because of who she is and what she can become.

Tennis Shoe Afterthoughts

So I've had a little time to think since writing this post yesterday and I've discussed it with a several people since then as well, most coming from my new Learning Circle. We talked about acceptance last night. Acceptance with ourselves, with motherhood, of others. It was great, and I feel like I bore my whole soul on a first date. Not sure how I feel about that in retrospect, but let's just "accept" that that's who I am. I'm a talker.

So here are my afterthoughts. I worry way to much about these kinds of things and what other people think. I think I'm highly aware of my flaws and imperfections right now in my life and I project those flaws onto other people. I assume everyone else in the world thinks the same thing about me as I do. I think everyone else is comparing me to all these cute single women on dates in line at Zupa's on Friday night. I think everyone looks at my not very tight abs and compares me to the other first time mom, whose belly just magically goes back after having that baby. It's silly really. I always get this way, at about this time, after having a baby. Last time it prompted me to do the Mrs. Utah pageant, to help myself gain some confidence, to squeeze out some me time, and to get myself back in order, and you know what...it worked. I just need to get my confidence back.

I'm not sure what I'll do next, but at least I can see this phase for what it is. Postpartum, baby slave, desperately needing some me time, mommy craziness. So don't worry folks, I'll snap out of it, and I've got some good goals to help get me there.

Tennis Shoes

These are my tennis shoes.

My very favorite shoes.

Miguel bought them for me for Christmas.

Worn 'em almost every day for the last year.

I LOVE THEM!


 But it's funny, you see. I do love them and I love wearing them. They help me be a good mom. When I put them on in the morning, I'm ready for anything. They help me walk over the playdough my kids have dropped on the floor or the food crumbs that haven't been swept yet. They help me run up and down the stairs with the loads of laundry, or out to the trash can to drop the cereal boxes in the recycle trashcan. They help me walk over ice in the driveway without slipping and breaking my neck. They help me walk all over the house with my baby without fear of rolling my ankle. They help me pick up my kids from preschool or go grocery shopping. They keep my knees from aching from walking on our tile floors. They help me as I wash a million dishes in the sink and stand to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I can run and jump at a moments notice, like when I think Max is suddenly going to fall off the couch. I can suddenly join in on the impromtu dance party going on somewhere in the house. I really do love these shoes.

So why do I feel so ashamed to wear them? I'm embarrassed almost. Why can't I embrace the fact that I'm the mom who wears tennis shoes every day of her life. I feel the pressure from the world to be otherwise. And I hate it! I feel like the world pushes me to be something else. Like I need to have a closet full of boots, flats, heels, pumps, and a myriad of other things that I don't really feel like wearing. Why can't I just be proud of my tennis shoes? Those and my jeans. I don't have to worry about them. If Max barfs on them, I don't have a conniption fit. I don't have to send them out for dry cleaning. So why does it bug me when other people are dressed to the hilt, especially mothers? Especially ones with little children like me? Maybe it's a lack of maturity on my part. I don't really care if they wear it, but I care about how it makes me feel. Like I'm sub par or that I have to compete with that and I don't want to compete.

I just need to love my tennis shoe wearin' self. It's all about acceptance and I need to accept myself. Don't get me wrong, I love dressing up like the next girl, but I believe there is a time and a place for it. We had a discussion in Sunday school a few weeks back about how usually the demise of the Nephites was when "costly apparel" was introduced to the society. I know it drives me nuts and always has. That's why I like going to the temple, because all of that hoopla is cut out and you can see people for who they are and not for what they are wearing. I'm really opening up here, but I've felt like it been on my chest for a while. So while I'm still learning to embrace myself, you will still catch those tennis shoes on my feet, because that's who I am. (And maybe I'll just expand my collection beyond one pair, just to change it up a bit.)

The Last?

It's funny how much I'm trying to soak in this little baby boy. Perhaps it's because he may be my last. Maybe not. I haven't decided, but what if he is, and I didn't drink him in enough while he was little. I'm really trying to be present and take note. I want to remember his sweet face years from now. I want to remember how he just smiles and starts kicking when he finally sees me, or when I come in to get him up from his naps. Those are my favorite moments. And even when I have to get up in the night, I like to breathe him in. I love that baby smell . I like to rub his little head, and kiss him in that neck, no matter how much it smells like spit. I always go get one last look at him sleeping before slipping into my own bed at night. I really like this stage and hope it lasts a while.

But I also love my big girls. I love that they can play, and run around, and we can talk. I love watching them learn new things and to see them try things for the first time. Life is more fun, and it's like my sister in law recently said, you get to experience childhood all over again through their eyes.

Motherhood is a privilege. I'm privileged enough to get to share in the lives of my children each day. Some people would question why I have four children, thinking that it is far too many, but I can't imagine my life without them. Maybe we'll have another or maybe not, but now I'm just going to absorb the ones I'm lucky to have right now.

What is your image?

While spending too much time blog surfing this morning (it was a long night with the baby and I'm having a slow start) I came across this post by a lady I have never met, but it really made me think.

My favorite part is a quote she gave by the philosopher Meister Eckhard who said, "When the soul wishes to experience something, she throws an image of the experience out before her and enters into her own image."

This immediately brought these pictures to my mind.

I did not like them in any shape, form, or fashion when they were taken, but now they are treasures of mine.

These images are what I want to enter into.

This looks like the mother that I want to be.

I want to experience that kind of joy that is on my face.

I love these little babies of mine and they are growing up far too fast.

It also made me think of this post I wrote a while ago.

What is your image?

Go read the article.

Post your picture on your blog.

Leave me a comment with the link!

The Truth Is...

I'm TIRED!

Really, really tired.

It's 10:00 and I've just put four children down to bed who I've been caring for since, oh, I can't even remember. I'm waking up at night still, to feed a baby. I think I had mastitis, called the ob for a perscription, and of course I'm allergic to it. I feel like I've rolled in a bed of poison ivy and if you touch my skin it feels like it will catch on fire and burst into flames. I'm sort of a hypocondriac and keep imagining what will happen to me if I ever get seriously ill or get cancer. They will have no way of treating me, because I'm allergic to everything under the sun. It kind of sucks to be honest. My husband works all the time, and I feel like I'm wearing down. Between elders quorum meetings, primary meetings, him working late and going on appointments, I rarely see the man. I'm tired of having breakfast, lunch, and dinner, by myself with the kids. I feel like I give and give and I'm not recieving very much. I told Miguel about it the other night and he said the three most important areas to worry and focus on are my spiritual and physical well being as well as my relationships with others. My response:

Well I'm pretty high and dry in all those areas.

I'm not writing this to gather sympathy. No it's more of a way to capture what it's like at this moment in my life raising four kids. As hard and refining as it is, I wouldn't trade it or give up my opportunity to be with them, but it is just hard. That's the reality of it. I wish I could sugar coat it and post some glorious pictures on here, but then that wouldn't be portraying the truth. Life is hard right now. Others have it harder. I'll have faith that it will get better. I'm looking forward to school starting next week so we can have some sort of schedule and maybe things will settle down a bit.

Now I'm off to bed.

My Handsome Boy is 1 Month Today...Hooray!!!

This is Maximus.

He's 1 Month Today.

He'd like to show you a few things.

 He's grown super l..o..n..g.. in the last month.

 This is his famous "O" face. It's a fan favorite.

 He is soothed by Mariachi music. I have no idea why.

 And this is his touchdown pose. Or maybe his surrender pose. We're not sure what he's going for.

So how's life at one month. To be honest, it's a little stressful and today I started to feel some familiar feelings like I did when I had Julianne. It's mostly a feeling of being overwhelmed. It seems like everyone needs something at the exact same time. Meal times are especially trying. I'm trying to dish the kids some food, while Max is screaming bloody murder, and Julianne is constantly telling me that Max "needs me," but if I pick him up, she'll commence her "I'm hungry" tantrum and try to eat anything in sight.  Their table manners are going out the window, because  I'm usually nursing Max while they are eating and I'm not at the table with them. I remember the feeling of only being one person and that I just couldn't do enough to meet everyone's needs. I remember not ever eating because it's all you can do to feed everyone else and by the time you're done, you've just plum forgot to eat yourself. I remember feeling like a martyr.

Those are the exact feelings that drove me to do that pageant.

I've got to figure something out and regain some sort of self, because I don't want to feel like a martyr. I love my job as a mom and wouldn't trade it for anything, but I need to find a way to weather the next six months, and still find joy in it.