Month: August 2011

Categories
Kids/Parenting

Hayden’s a kindergartener!

Yesterday was Hayden’s first day!

Riding to school (It’s just a couple blocks from door to door.)

Saying bye

(The little boy behind him is the one mentioned below)

Walking in


His teacher is the woman leading the line. Ryan said the yellow-shirted man had a college ID, so he might have been a student teacher? I didn’t see him today.

Naturally, Hayden can’t give me a minute-by-minute account of the day, but I’ve gathered that he got to play with play dough, draw a picture of himself, sit criss-cross apple sauce(d) on the multi color carpet with our neighbor in his class, make a new friend (Who greeted him today by saying, “Hey! You! With glasses!” and holding out his arms as if to say “DUUUH, I’m right HERE!” [Ack, I can’t believe my son is “the one in the glasses!”]). Also, there are stars decorating the classroom. Hayden did his screening interview in this room, and at the time he asked if he could write his name on one of the stars hanging from the ceiling. He tells me he doesn’t have a desk, but a table. Tonight is his back to school night, so we’ll get a better idea of what school is really like.

But he was glad to see me at noon:

And I’m not sure when he picked this trick up, but this was the first I’d seen it:

Rachel slept the whole time. Rebecca loved having me to herself: yesterday, we played games, including one number game (the fourth one here), the entire time. I spent less than half an hour straightening up/on the computer. Today, we laid on the floor and snuggled for 2 hours while we watched Curious George and Toy Story. Every time I even sat up, she’d roll over and say in a perfectly innocent voice, “I thought you were going to duggle me.”

I think she needs a picture:

And Rachel, too. The first time she climbed up in the stroller on her own (I think):

She was very adventurous at the park after school today. She was very upset to leave!

Oh, and what you’re really wondering: how did I take it? Ryan actually took off work and we all went down together, and I teared up, but didn’t cry. My friend/neighbor (mother of Hayden’s friend) pointed out that this is kind of the beginning of the end: from here on out, our sphere of influence will only shrink in their lives. Ouch. But I still managed to keep it together. (Another friend’s son told her that “It was the worst day of my life because you left me,” so I think we all handled it pretty well, eh?)

Categories
Kids/Parenting Fulfillment Faith

Help me not hate Sundays

The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath. (Mark 2:27)

And sometimes I question whether the sabbath was made for Moms.

I’ve really struggled with hating Sundays. When I was about five, I had my mouth washed out with soap for screaming “I hate church!” After church, my mother felt so bad, she gave me a bowl of ice cream.

I think I need more ice cream.

I think my real trouble started last year while I was still pregnant with Rachel. There was a solid month, maybe longer, where for various reasons, I ended up in tears before church was over. And not happy-feel-the-Spirit-thank-you-for-your-talk! tears. More like, “How am I supposed to wrestle two small children all by my pregnant-with-a-third-lonesome and why the heck are you even giving me a third since anyway I’m clearly dying with the two I already have and I was obviously not made to be a mother and I’m an awful human being…” tears. You get the picture.

Hormones are not my friend. Thanks a lot, fallen world body.

Fastforward about eight months: Rachel is born, church is hard, but MAN am I in a better mood most of the time. No hiding in dark hallways while I spend the entire second hour of church bawling! And then I get slammed with a new calling: Primary president.

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who like working in the Primary (seriously, bless their wonderful hearts) and people on my team (no wonderful hearts on this side of the line). My husband is still in the bishopric (lay ministry of our ward). So our blessed Sabbath begins with meetings. Thankfully, this year our meetings only start at 8 AM (it’s been as early as 6–oy). Ryan goes to this meeting. I spend the hour getting dressed and often bathing or preparing to bathe the children.

At 9 AM, every other Sunday, I’m supposed to attend another meeting. Which Ryan is also supposed to attend. While our 5-, 3- and 1-year-old do what? We had a friend who would stay with them during that hour, but she moved. So what usually happens is that Ryan comes home after his meeting and I go back to the church (luckily only 3 minutes away) and arrive late to the next meeting and look like a slacker. Not that it makes a difference because 90% of the time I have nothing of value to add. The few times I do have something to say, it’s usually a joke. And—really, truly, Johnny Lion—less than a minute after I crack a joke to no response, someone else in the meeting will crack the exact same joke, using my exact same words, and everyone laughs. I don’t even get to make jokes? This is lame.

Once they release me, we have about half an hour to get the children all dressed and out the door to church. Except that Rachel is almost always asleep during this time. The one day a week I could really use her to wake up on the early side, she sleeps in, which makes finishing a nap before 11:00 church a joke of its own. And this time it’s okay if no one laughs. I’m not.

So sometimes if she’s really grumpy and still asleep, I just let her sleep and I miss the first hour of church. If not, I get to spend 70 minutes of church and in the pews with my three kids by myself (okay, I have gotten a lot of help over the months), trying to keep them quiet/friendly/from killing one another. In a whisper. Add to that Rebecca’s major potty training trials lately and over the last six months, I’ve spent probably more of sacrament meeting in my house than I have in my pew, listening to even a complete phrase. Ryan’s biggest struggle is not to fall asleep during Sacrament meeting. Mine is not to apostatize.

After wrestling enjoying the deep spiritual talks of my beloved brothers and sisters Sacrament meeting, I go to two hours of meetings with the children. We aren’t supposed to drink coffee, but I think some of the parents have been slipping their kids chocolate covered espresso beans in the back of the chapel. The concept of reverence is beyond foreign. It’s freakin extraterrestrial.

Every third month, I get to teach the kids a 15-minute lesson: one for the younger kids, one for the older kids. The following month, I conduct the meeting. (I think that might be a joke?) The third month, I either visit individual classes or, you know, I sit and breathe. (I’m grateful to Ryan for taking Rachel during these hours—it could be worse.)

Once church is finally over, I load up the kids in the car (usually with Ryan’s help, but I swear it only recently began occurring to him that I might like some help with this, you know, every week). I get them home, get the big kids a snack and in front of a movie, and rush Rachel into a nap. Or babbling/screaming/kicking in her crib for an hour. Whatever she feels like.

Twice a month (if I’m lucky, these Sundays alternate with my morning meeting Sundays, but obviously I’m not lucky), I then have to prepare for a meeting of my counselors & secretary in my house. Which means I spend the 90 or so minutes between putting Rachel down and the presidency’s arrival picking up all the Goldfish the kids have ground into the carpet, making out a meeting agenda, and bowing to their every! little! whim! for the kids. Then I have my meeting, with children sporadically joining us to monopolize the conversation/climb on me. Then I often get to make dinner. And dessert.

Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest, not wrestling.

Blah blah blah seasons of our life. I know. I know that this is the season of my life, and this too shall pass. There are times to teach and times to learn, as a very wise sister said to one of my friends. I get it. What I’m struggling with is 1.) getting that rest that we’re supposed to (and I so desperately need) to refuel and prepare for the week, and 2.) not hating the season I’m in.

So, any suggestions?

Categories
MetaBlogging Fulfillment

Doing It All (at The Power of Moms)

I have another guest post at The Power of Moms this weekend! It’s called “Doing It All.” Doesn’t it seem like we’re always told we can do it all, and we should be doing it all right now?

If you’re visiting from that post, welcome! Please check out some of my favorite posts on fulfillment:

Stay a while! Subscribe! And thank you for reading!

Categories
Fulfillment Faith

From the archives: Savor the seasons of motherhood

This post was originally published with a different introduction on April 6, 2008, when my kindergartener was only two (check out the picture below!). It was part of the March/April 2008 Group Writing Project, with the theme “Savoring the season.”

This week I was reading All These Things Shall Give Thee Experience by Neal A. Maxwell (man, I miss him!), and I came across an interesting concept. “Time is clearly not our natural dimension,” he says. “Thus it is that we are never really at home in time. Alternately, we find ourselves wishing to hasten the passage of time or to hold back the dawn. . . . [W]e are clearly not at home in time—because we belong to eternity” (11). I’m glad to hear that problem isn’t unique to me, from wanderlust or mommybrain or what have you. Although this life is a tiny piece of eternity, the experiences we gain here should not be rushed through. They are invaluable to our eternal progress—especially in our families.

This brought to mind a quotation, source long since lost, that a good friend’s mother shared with her:

Wise is the woman who cherishes each season
and cheerfully anticipates the next.

My friend shared this quotation during a lesson in church on having patience. Most of us in the room were mothers, many with young children—and I think we all recognized the very common human tendency to want to rush or move on through the difficult times of parenting.

Focusing solely on the future, the next season of our lives, robs many of us of the joy of today. We dwell on the difficulties that bedevil us now: lack of sleep, kids’ eating problems, overwhelming amounts of housework, lack of time with our children and/or spouse, kids’ tantrums, and on and on. We could all likely spend hours listing the things about motherhood that leave us dissatisfied. For me, at least, after I’ve done that, all I’m left with is dissatisfaction.

When I stop brooding over the “bad” parts of motherhood, however, suddenly my charge is less of a chore. When I look at the cute and sweet things that my son already does, when I marvel at the ways he’s grown and continues to grow every day, I don’t think about the drudgery that it was.

arty b/w photo of Hayden at 26 months

Perhaps hindsight is 20/20; perhaps memory is blind. But as I look back over Hayden’s brief life, my chief regret (aside, possibly, from mildly spoiling him 😉 ) is not enjoying him more, even during the difficult times.

So today, I’ll savor the season. Today, I will do the work of motherhood, and I will choose to be happy. Tomorrow I’ll be able to look back with fond memories of the time I spent today. And I’ll be ready for the challenges—and joys—that tomorrow will surely bring.

Categories
Work Fulfillment

Why I quit working

I was very lucky to be able to work at home up until just before Rachel, my third, was born. In some ways, it was the best of both worlds: I only had to put in a few hours a day, I helped with our expenses, I got the opportunity to exercise my mind and (kind of) associate with other adults (though I don’t know of blog comments “count,” especially with some of the ugly conflicts there that still bug me).

On the other hand, I almost never regret leaving the “workforce.” I liked my job and my boss, but I was spending waaay too much time on the computer. It hasn’t gotten all the way better, unfortunately, but I’m glad that I don’t have to be online for those hours a day anymore.

Over on the Power of Moms recently, I read an article about Telena Hall, who went from full-time WAHM to mostly SAHM. She still receives some resistance for her decision, but I think she has a great perspective on the working/nonworking debate:

I continue to work on a much smaller level and I still associate with the same women who were once my peers (and are now my superiors). They continue to encourage me to work more and move back into management. They often remind me of the money I can earn, or influence I’ll have in that position. I have to remind myself that I have the greatest influence over my children, and that one day they will grow up to influence the world. I came to realize that quantity time could not be replaced with quality time. My children needed BOTH.

There are many wonderful opportunities we can pursue as moms and as women. In stepping down from my position was I saying it is wrong for a woman to work? Not at all. It was simply a matter of dividing my time and prioritizing accordingly.

Telena concludes, quoting a church leader, “A woman need not sing all the verses of her song at the same time.” There are seasons in our lives, and after reviewing her priorities, she decided that this season was the time she needed to be with her young children, and maybe in another season, she might return to working—or not.

For me, it wasn’t a big change in my schedule to free up those hours—but it made a big difference in terms of my stress levels (for a while). I continue to struggle with some things I miss—like feeling valued, etc., which is kind of funny since I know my boss valued me, but we didn’t have to communicate all that often—but I know that putting my family first, above a nebulous, difficult to achieve and easy to lose “feeling,” is the best bet I can make right now.

What do you think? What are your priorities? How have you changed your schedule or life for them?

Photo by Sean Dreilinger

Categories
Kids/Parenting

Hayden’s all ready for kindergarten

Hayden has now had his teeth inspected, cleaned, and root planed/scaled, his body checked out and shot up with vaccines, and his eyes examined. Yep, he’s all ready for kindergarten.

He wants to note that he's wearing his Finn McMissile shirt

Yep. Once they get these made, the kid’s got a life sentence. And (almost) clear vision, so we can’t complain too much. He picked out these frames himself. And for evening prayer, he prayed for his glasses to get here safely.

Rebecca saw this picture and laughed. “Why Hayden so c’asee?!” (Crazy) “Why do he weah he g’asses?”

I blame his daddy. Hayden holds the dubious honor of being the only child this optometrist examined for kindergarten screening this year who needed a full exam (and, thus, glasses). But that’s why we do these things, right?

How old were you when you got glasses? And if the answer is never, just wait.