Okay, so I know it isn't Thursday, and I do know that it is Christmas, but this post is going to be about neither of those things (try back on Thursday for something feel-goody and Christmas-y; my husband just left me and my daughter at my parents to travel two hours to his parents and beat the snow storm so he can go to work tomorrow and I can enjoy my favorite day of the year which isn't such a favorite since I don't get to spend it with him, but probably I should stop whining and be grateful that we've had a wonderful day and that he has a good job and that it isn't snowing yet so I don't have to be overly worried about him driving down to SLC in the dark...but I digress).
Some acquaintance on facebook posted this article about children and online privacy today and I thought I would share it. Why? Because these are some of the things (among many) that Scott and I took into consideration when we discovered we were having a baby and had to make a choice about whether or not to "put her on facebook." We both felt very strongly about not putting pictures of her on facebook. We felt like once we did, we couldn't control her privacy--who knows who would see her and find pictures of her and decide to steal her? She is that cute, after all. At the same time, it kind of broke my heart to not be able to share her with friends and family that live far away. We reached a happy medium with our private family blog--our friends and family can still stay in touch and see pictures of her, but they have to have my permission to do so. I try to keep her name private on this blog and you won't ever see pictures of her here.
I'm not saying this is the best choice, nor is it right for everyone. I like how this article touches on that. I try not to judge anyone for posting pictures of their children on social media. I can fully understand why they do it. I just know that there are probably people out there who don't understand why I do not.
Sometimes (okay, almost daily), I get jealous of all the "she's so cute" and "you're such a good mom!" comments that I see on my friends' facebook pages when they post pictures of their children. I miss having people adore my daughter's cuteness and my mommy skills (which, let's face it, aren't all that awesome anyway). Sometimes I long for that validation, especially when I am at home all day with limited contact with the outside world. Sometimes, like after we got our family pictures taken, Scott and I revisit the issue--would it be okay for our photographer to post some of our family's cute pictures? Would it really hurt that much?
But then I think about what I want the world to know about my daughter. Personally, I hope she never becomes a "Sophia Grace and Rosie" YouTube?Ellen sensation (I have no doubt she is adorable enough and talented enough to do so someday). I do not want her childhood tainted by stardom, nor do I want her thinking that online validation is the only kind of validation there is. There are things about our family that I want to keep private. I don't want just anyone admiring (or abusing) her pictures. I want people that are strangers to me to be strangers to my daughter. I want to have some control over her while I still can.
And so, for us, and for now, Kevin remains known to us and anonymous to you.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Good Will Toward Men
It is hard to feel good about the world today. I have been especially disappointed this past week as multiple people seem to be telling me, an avid Aggie fan since birth, how I should feel about Gary Anderson ditching the Aggies.
I said it.
He ditched us.
And no, I will not be happy for him just because he tripled his salary.
You can tell me what you want. I will listen politely, but I probably won't change my mind. Then I will tell you what I believe (because in Aggie Nation, it is all about what you believe).
I believe the man lied. I believe I could have been happy for him to move up in his career, had he not strung us all along for the past month about him staying here.
But, no, he said he would stay and then, once the big offer came, whoosh! He was outta here!
Personally, I don't think anyone who hasn't been an Aggie fan for at least ten years can really comprehend how much this hurts us. You can say that it's just the way it is and I should be okay with it, but I will tell you why I cannot be happy that this "is just the way it is." This small situation is just a sampling of what is wrong with the world today on a larger scale. His choice exemplifies a lack of three basic morals that we desperately need in our society: integrity, loyalty, and contentment. Let me outline them for you:
1. Integrity means you say what you mean and you mean what you say. You are true to your word. And if you don't intend on being true to your word, you don't share those words.
2. Loyalty means sticking with something. Aggie fans (at least those that have been around more than the past three seasons) understand this: loving something not because it is victorious, but because you believe in it. For example, I believe in goodness, but "goodness" isn't always the winning team in today's world.
3. Contentment. It means being satisfied with what you have. Today's generation is all about entitlement. We deserve bigger, better, faster, stronger, more more more. There is such a thing as being happy and not being rich.Contrary to popular belief, money isn't everything.
I have been asking myself over and over how I am going to instill these values into my daughter when every time she steps outside our door she will be confronted with ideas that tell her the opposite. And how am I going to keep myself believing in these things when good people--even my friends--are telling me I should be okay with less than this?
My insides are in knots. There are no easy answers.
This is the time of year when I am supposed to have good will toward men. Obviously, if you've read this far, you know I don't seem to have much of that going on. I know. I feel awful about it. I want to be happy. I want to know peace. At some point, I would like to believe that people really are what they say they are, that they really will do what they say they are going to do, that they won't leave it all when something better comes along.
Maybe I am overly emotional right now because I am slowly tearing apart the only home my daughter has ever known to pack her up and move her to a place almost completely foreign to her (and to me). Last night I finally had enough. Knowing that my husband would be staying the night with his parents down in Salt Lake because of his new job, I decided to do the only thing that I knew would make me feel better.
I packed up my daughter and I went home to the home that will always be home.
And I asked my mom, "am I right to feel the way I do? All these other people are telling me I should feel the opposite." And she said just what I needed to hear--that integrity, and loyalty, and contentment should still count for something, that my feelings were valid, and it was okay that it didn't feel okay.
And for the rest of the evening, I wrapped presents while watching White Christmas and keeping an eye on Kevin, who is trying so hard to crawl and expand her world. Early this morning, when I was trying to get her to go back to sleep for a little while so I could too, we cuddled on the bed in my old bedroom, surrounded by the yellow walls I love. I read to her stories out of a Christmas Treasury that my mom bought for my family in 1993 (I am probably the only child who has read this treasury). Sleepily she smiled up at me, content to look at the pictures, listen to my voice, and run her hand along her yellow fleece blanket until she drifted off again.
And I realized, the best thing I can do for her is what my parents did for me: give her a home to come home to when life gets tough and she needs just a moment of peace before she can pick herself up and move on.
And now, I am going to pick myself up and move on.
I said it.
He ditched us.
And no, I will not be happy for him just because he tripled his salary.
You can tell me what you want. I will listen politely, but I probably won't change my mind. Then I will tell you what I believe (because in Aggie Nation, it is all about what you believe).
I believe the man lied. I believe I could have been happy for him to move up in his career, had he not strung us all along for the past month about him staying here.
But, no, he said he would stay and then, once the big offer came, whoosh! He was outta here!
Personally, I don't think anyone who hasn't been an Aggie fan for at least ten years can really comprehend how much this hurts us. You can say that it's just the way it is and I should be okay with it, but I will tell you why I cannot be happy that this "is just the way it is." This small situation is just a sampling of what is wrong with the world today on a larger scale. His choice exemplifies a lack of three basic morals that we desperately need in our society: integrity, loyalty, and contentment. Let me outline them for you:
1. Integrity means you say what you mean and you mean what you say. You are true to your word. And if you don't intend on being true to your word, you don't share those words.
2. Loyalty means sticking with something. Aggie fans (at least those that have been around more than the past three seasons) understand this: loving something not because it is victorious, but because you believe in it. For example, I believe in goodness, but "goodness" isn't always the winning team in today's world.
3. Contentment. It means being satisfied with what you have. Today's generation is all about entitlement. We deserve bigger, better, faster, stronger, more more more. There is such a thing as being happy and not being rich.Contrary to popular belief, money isn't everything.
I have been asking myself over and over how I am going to instill these values into my daughter when every time she steps outside our door she will be confronted with ideas that tell her the opposite. And how am I going to keep myself believing in these things when good people--even my friends--are telling me I should be okay with less than this?
My insides are in knots. There are no easy answers.
This is the time of year when I am supposed to have good will toward men. Obviously, if you've read this far, you know I don't seem to have much of that going on. I know. I feel awful about it. I want to be happy. I want to know peace. At some point, I would like to believe that people really are what they say they are, that they really will do what they say they are going to do, that they won't leave it all when something better comes along.
Maybe I am overly emotional right now because I am slowly tearing apart the only home my daughter has ever known to pack her up and move her to a place almost completely foreign to her (and to me). Last night I finally had enough. Knowing that my husband would be staying the night with his parents down in Salt Lake because of his new job, I decided to do the only thing that I knew would make me feel better.
I packed up my daughter and I went home to the home that will always be home.
And I asked my mom, "am I right to feel the way I do? All these other people are telling me I should feel the opposite." And she said just what I needed to hear--that integrity, and loyalty, and contentment should still count for something, that my feelings were valid, and it was okay that it didn't feel okay.
And for the rest of the evening, I wrapped presents while watching White Christmas and keeping an eye on Kevin, who is trying so hard to crawl and expand her world. Early this morning, when I was trying to get her to go back to sleep for a little while so I could too, we cuddled on the bed in my old bedroom, surrounded by the yellow walls I love. I read to her stories out of a Christmas Treasury that my mom bought for my family in 1993 (I am probably the only child who has read this treasury). Sleepily she smiled up at me, content to look at the pictures, listen to my voice, and run her hand along her yellow fleece blanket until she drifted off again.
And I realized, the best thing I can do for her is what my parents did for me: give her a home to come home to when life gets tough and she needs just a moment of peace before she can pick herself up and move on.
And now, I am going to pick myself up and move on.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Kindergarten
I didn't post on here yesterday.
It just slipped my mind.
I was having too much fun doing other things and before you know it, it was Friday. And Friday meant that we spent all day in a car travelling the roads of Idaho with the rest of Aggie Nation. Tomorrow is a big game day.
But I don't want to talk about what I did today. I want to talk about yesterday, and what happened yesterday in light of what happened today, this morning, in a little Elementary school in Connecticut.
Yesterday, Kevin and I visited my mom at work.
She's a Kindergarten teacher.
We meant to stay for five, maybe ten minutes. But here's the thing about a good Kindergarten classroom. Once you enter, you just want to stay and stay and stay. Because, in Kindergarten, you feel good about yourself. You feel good about other people. You see little children that give you hope in an ever-discouraging societal future. You learn new words. Like vertices. Until yesterday, I had no idea what that was. And when I told one of the little girls that, her blond curls bounced as she gave me a look that said, "you really didn't know what that meant? Where have you been? Duh."
So we stayed.
For almost two hours.
And we learned.
My mom introduced the children to her granddaughter and then explained that the baby's uncle called her Kevin. "Why do you think he calls her Kevin?" She asked.
Little hands shot up into the air.
Because she looks like a boy.
Because she has blue eyes like him.
Because Kevin is a good name.
I know a Kevin.
Because she looks like a Kevin.
Finally, I explained the connection to the bird named Kevin in the movie UP! who is, in fact, a girl.
Because she's a girl!
Good job. You know, there aren't really wrong answers in Kindergarten. At least, nobody feels as if they gave a wrong answer in Kindergarten. You can give not-quite-right answers, or almost answers, or answers that are completely off-topic, but the important thing is, you give an answer.
There are no answers for what happened this morning. It's heartbreaking that in today's society, we expect shootings at public gatherings. We expect them at shopping malls. Even a movie theater, although hard to comprehend, is comprehendable. We expect them at middle schools and junior highs.
But you never, ever, ever expect them in a Kindergarten classroom.
Kindergarten classrooms are meant to be full of life. The very best kind of life. The kind of life where you can be anything you want and every day you learn something new. The kind where you learn to be a friend and a helper, to fulfill your responsibility and save your Turtle Tokens for the Turtle Store when you do something good, and hand them over as a punishment when you are naughty.
My mom's classroom has a motto: Slow and Steady wins the race.
The race of life is never easy and it is always unexpected, but like it or not, this is a marathon we didn't sign up for, but we still have to run. We run it together. Some of us are given harder routes than others. But we all have the same destination in mind. We hold each other up. We cheer each other on. We love. We make good choices. We learn new things.
I have read three different blog posts in the last hour, all friends of mine, each asked to run a different race. One discusses the recovery of one of my missionary friends, who recently had surgery to remove a tumor from behind his ear. Everyday, he is battling to do simple things: sit, stand, walk on his own.
Good news. He is winning.
I read about a friend's wait for his sweetheart, who is off fulfilling a calling to teach the people of the Phillipines about Christ. Everyday that she sits in a classroom and learns a foreign language, she is winning.
And then there is the post of the older sister of a dear friend of mine, whose baby boy will turn one year old tomorrow, in the hospital where he has spent almost every major holiday of his life. He, also, is fighting. She, her husband, her family, her friends...we are all fighting with him. Every time we see that boy's smile and we smile, everytime we hold a child closer and are more grateful for what we have been given instead of what we don't have, we are winning.
And when life stops making sense, we ask a teacher.
Tonight, we ask the Teacher of all Teachers for help, peace, and understanding. In return, He will help us find life.
We can be on the winning team.
It just slipped my mind.
I was having too much fun doing other things and before you know it, it was Friday. And Friday meant that we spent all day in a car travelling the roads of Idaho with the rest of Aggie Nation. Tomorrow is a big game day.
But I don't want to talk about what I did today. I want to talk about yesterday, and what happened yesterday in light of what happened today, this morning, in a little Elementary school in Connecticut.
Yesterday, Kevin and I visited my mom at work.
She's a Kindergarten teacher.
We meant to stay for five, maybe ten minutes. But here's the thing about a good Kindergarten classroom. Once you enter, you just want to stay and stay and stay. Because, in Kindergarten, you feel good about yourself. You feel good about other people. You see little children that give you hope in an ever-discouraging societal future. You learn new words. Like vertices. Until yesterday, I had no idea what that was. And when I told one of the little girls that, her blond curls bounced as she gave me a look that said, "you really didn't know what that meant? Where have you been? Duh."
So we stayed.
For almost two hours.
And we learned.
My mom introduced the children to her granddaughter and then explained that the baby's uncle called her Kevin. "Why do you think he calls her Kevin?" She asked.
Little hands shot up into the air.
Because she looks like a boy.
Because she has blue eyes like him.
Because Kevin is a good name.
I know a Kevin.
Because she looks like a Kevin.
Finally, I explained the connection to the bird named Kevin in the movie UP! who is, in fact, a girl.
Because she's a girl!
Good job. You know, there aren't really wrong answers in Kindergarten. At least, nobody feels as if they gave a wrong answer in Kindergarten. You can give not-quite-right answers, or almost answers, or answers that are completely off-topic, but the important thing is, you give an answer.
There are no answers for what happened this morning. It's heartbreaking that in today's society, we expect shootings at public gatherings. We expect them at shopping malls. Even a movie theater, although hard to comprehend, is comprehendable. We expect them at middle schools and junior highs.
But you never, ever, ever expect them in a Kindergarten classroom.
Kindergarten classrooms are meant to be full of life. The very best kind of life. The kind of life where you can be anything you want and every day you learn something new. The kind where you learn to be a friend and a helper, to fulfill your responsibility and save your Turtle Tokens for the Turtle Store when you do something good, and hand them over as a punishment when you are naughty.
My mom's classroom has a motto: Slow and Steady wins the race.
The race of life is never easy and it is always unexpected, but like it or not, this is a marathon we didn't sign up for, but we still have to run. We run it together. Some of us are given harder routes than others. But we all have the same destination in mind. We hold each other up. We cheer each other on. We love. We make good choices. We learn new things.
I have read three different blog posts in the last hour, all friends of mine, each asked to run a different race. One discusses the recovery of one of my missionary friends, who recently had surgery to remove a tumor from behind his ear. Everyday, he is battling to do simple things: sit, stand, walk on his own.
Good news. He is winning.
I read about a friend's wait for his sweetheart, who is off fulfilling a calling to teach the people of the Phillipines about Christ. Everyday that she sits in a classroom and learns a foreign language, she is winning.
And then there is the post of the older sister of a dear friend of mine, whose baby boy will turn one year old tomorrow, in the hospital where he has spent almost every major holiday of his life. He, also, is fighting. She, her husband, her family, her friends...we are all fighting with him. Every time we see that boy's smile and we smile, everytime we hold a child closer and are more grateful for what we have been given instead of what we don't have, we are winning.
Somedays our races are harder to run than others.
And when life stops making sense, we ask a teacher.
Tonight, we ask the Teacher of all Teachers for help, peace, and understanding. In return, He will help us find life.
We can be on the winning team.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Change, change, change
This week has been a bit of a whirlwind for our family. Over
the past two weeks, Scott has been applying for any job he can find in the state
of Utah. His current job has steadily gotten worse and worse. The best way I
know to describe it is to say that if there was such a thing as working for a
soul-sucking dementor from Harry Potter—well, Icon is pretty close.
Both Scott and I have been praying and pleading for him to
find a new job so that we can adequately provide for our family and help Scott
get started in his chosen career. He
will graduate in May, but his final semester consists of three classes: one
online and two distance education. We designed it that way on purpose so that
he could potentially get an internship for next semester.
Well, he didn’t get an internship. He was blessed with a
job!
On Tuesday night I came home from teaching a YW lesson (on
sister missionary work, I may or may not post it sometime soon), to find him…smiling?
What is this? He said that the guy from one of the jobs he’d applied for had
called while I was gone and they talked for like 30 minutes and he had an
interview in Salt Lake the next day (he was already going down for a different
job interview). On Wednesday, he had a great interview (good thing Scotty knows
his Aggie sports) and before Scott had even gotten a chance to drive back into
Cache Valley, he had the job!
I haven’t seen him smile so much in…well…years. The
happiness in his voice is contagious (well, at least it was until he realized
he’d only been going on three hours of sleep and finally got grumpy around ten
pm last night). I am so happy for him and for what this means for our family.
But there is part of me that is having a meltdown. For the past 24 hours I have been analyzing
this move and putting different blessings into two categories: the “bitter” and
the “sweet.”
Bitter: I have to move to the Salt Lake Valley. I have never
wanted to live there. In fact, if there was one place on earth I never wanted
to live (other than Waco, TX, I never wanted to serve there either…for no
particular reason, I just didn’t want to go to Waco) it is the Salt Lake
Valley.
Sweet: Salt Lake isn’t as far as...well…Texas, where we hope
to end up someday. I’m sure Kevin’s grandparents aren’t quite ready for us to
take her that far away, and when I admit it to myself: neither am I.
Bitter: I am more than slightly afraid that the panic/anxiety
attacks of my childhood (that stemmed from a move to the Salt Lake Valley when
I was nine) will come back.
Sweet: Perfect excuse to find a new OBGYN, since I didn’t
like my last one and the one I wanted to switch to was part of the same
practice. (There’s your TMI for the week).
Bitter: Leaving Cache Valley. I am not stupid. I know that
there is only a very slim chance I will ever live in my valley again. I am 25
years old and finally leaving home for good…and I am sad at the thought.
Bitter: We have to find a new place to move.
Sweet: the new place better have bigger closets and a second
bathroom. Eventually we would like to have more children and there is no way I
am sharing a bathroom with my husband through another pregnancy!
Bitter: We have to move. We have three times as much stuff
as we did when we moved into this apartment 18 months ago. Yuck.
Sweet: Now I don’t have to worry about finding a place here for all of Kevin’s outgrown baby
stuff.
Bitter: I have to clean up our apartment and keep it clean so that our landlords can
start showing it. Note: it has been a wonderful
place to live, but be warned, if you move in, you will most likely get pregnant
with a beautiful little girl. That’s the magic history of the apartment.
Sweet: We can still have Kevin’s first Christmas in her
first home.
Bitter: I have an abnormal fear of driving in Salt Lake.
Six-lane freeways in Texas? No problem. Utah Freeways and Downtown Salt Lake? No thank you, I’ll walk.
Sweet: We’ll need to get a new car. I’ve never gotten to go
car shopping before. I am not sure this is a “sweet” thing, but I’ve never
gotten to buy a car just for me to drive before. Note: It will not be a
mini-van. At least not at this point in time!
Bitter: Not being around to help my family. Not having
Auntie Liz babysit on Tuesday afternoons when I need a nap. Not being able to
go out my parent’s house on nights when Scott has school until 10:30. Not being
able to go to Flan’s basketball games. Not being able to go to Aggie basketball
games.
Sweet: Now, when we go visit my parents, it will be for a
couple of days instead of a couple of hours.
Bitter: Being in the same valley as most of Scott’s family.
Just kidding!
Sweet: Being in the same valley as most of Scott’s
family and not having to miss out on Fowler Family FHE anymore!
Sweet: Being close enough to get to know my nieces and
nephews better and help out my sister-in-laws when needed.
Sweet: Three words: Target. Chipotle. Zupas.
Sweet: Winco. Gummy Butterflies.
Sweet: A pay raise!
Sweet: Graduation without the worries of finding a big boy
job!
Sweet: A change of scenery.
Sweet: Having a husband who is happy.
Sweet: Knowing we are exactly where Heavenly Father needs us
to be.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Joy, redefined
I just finished the most wonderful book. There was nothing sensational about it, just a genuine, good, literary piece of storytelling. The craftmanship of the writing was soothing to my soul, as it has been a month or two since I read anything truly well-written (I have high standards; blame it on my literature professors). For the first time ever, I appreciated the slow pace of the novel. I needed something to calm me down, draw me in sentence by sentence, and take more than a day and a half to read.
Towards the end of the novel, there was a phrase that caught my attention.
...a child's joy is doubled for the mother...
"That's true," I thought to myself. Whenever Kevin laughs or smiles, my heart sings. We had a moment like this last night. Wednesdays are long days. Scott works eight or nine hours, is home long enough to eat and finish up homework, and then leaves again for class for the rest of the night. To make things worse, Kevin had been up at 2:00 am, then again at 6:00 am, and then refused to nap for more than 40 minutes throughout the day. She was cranky and clingy, and I'd spent the day trying to get shutterfly projects done in between entertaining her. She finally went to bed about half an hour after Scott left for class, only to wake up and go back down two more times. Around 9:30 we both got tired of the trying to get her to sleep routine, so I brought her out to the living room, set her on the floor, and we started playing with the big orange ball I'd bought at Walmart for $1.50 a few days before.
We rolled it back and forth and she giggled. I started bouncing it and throwing it gently in the air and she laughed. When I lightly bopped her face with it, and then mine, and then hers again, she roared with laughter. By the time Scott got home, we were both close to tears from having laughed so hard.
Such a simple, simple thing.
An orange ball.
A silly game.
A little voice, giggling.
Doubled joy.
On Tuesday my institute teacher posed a question to our room full of young mothers: "What makes an ideal day for you?"
Yesterday was an ideal day for me. It wasn't because Kevin refused to sleep, had two poopy diapers (one of which was a blow out), went through two sets of clothes, undid most of the laundry I folded, and peed all over her changing pad. It sure wasn't because I didn't get a shower and was stressed about getting Christmas put together. It definitely wasn't because Scott was gone all day, neither of us felt well, and the cupboards are pretty bare since I haven't gone grocery shopping in three weeks.
It was because, at two a.m., I got to cuddle my daughter, the two of us bathed in the glow from the little white lights on our Christmas tree. It was because I spent the day putting together projects for my family and exercising my creativity. It was because I made my baby girl laugh. It was because I didn't have to leave the house all day. It was because I miraculously got a second wind about 5:00 and actually cleaned up the house for once. It was because, for a short hour while Kevin slept and Scott was at school, I read my book in complete silence. It was because, when my head hit the pillow, I knew I'd had a productive day and filled every minute with something or someone I loved.
This is joy.
PS: What was the book, you ask? "The Shoemaker's Wife" by Adriana Trigiani. Amazing. Read it.
Towards the end of the novel, there was a phrase that caught my attention.
...a child's joy is doubled for the mother...
"That's true," I thought to myself. Whenever Kevin laughs or smiles, my heart sings. We had a moment like this last night. Wednesdays are long days. Scott works eight or nine hours, is home long enough to eat and finish up homework, and then leaves again for class for the rest of the night. To make things worse, Kevin had been up at 2:00 am, then again at 6:00 am, and then refused to nap for more than 40 minutes throughout the day. She was cranky and clingy, and I'd spent the day trying to get shutterfly projects done in between entertaining her. She finally went to bed about half an hour after Scott left for class, only to wake up and go back down two more times. Around 9:30 we both got tired of the trying to get her to sleep routine, so I brought her out to the living room, set her on the floor, and we started playing with the big orange ball I'd bought at Walmart for $1.50 a few days before.
We rolled it back and forth and she giggled. I started bouncing it and throwing it gently in the air and she laughed. When I lightly bopped her face with it, and then mine, and then hers again, she roared with laughter. By the time Scott got home, we were both close to tears from having laughed so hard.
Such a simple, simple thing.
An orange ball.
A silly game.
A little voice, giggling.
Doubled joy.
On Tuesday my institute teacher posed a question to our room full of young mothers: "What makes an ideal day for you?"
Yesterday was an ideal day for me. It wasn't because Kevin refused to sleep, had two poopy diapers (one of which was a blow out), went through two sets of clothes, undid most of the laundry I folded, and peed all over her changing pad. It sure wasn't because I didn't get a shower and was stressed about getting Christmas put together. It definitely wasn't because Scott was gone all day, neither of us felt well, and the cupboards are pretty bare since I haven't gone grocery shopping in three weeks.
It was because, at two a.m., I got to cuddle my daughter, the two of us bathed in the glow from the little white lights on our Christmas tree. It was because I spent the day putting together projects for my family and exercising my creativity. It was because I made my baby girl laugh. It was because I didn't have to leave the house all day. It was because I miraculously got a second wind about 5:00 and actually cleaned up the house for once. It was because, for a short hour while Kevin slept and Scott was at school, I read my book in complete silence. It was because, when my head hit the pillow, I knew I'd had a productive day and filled every minute with something or someone I loved.
This is joy.
PS: What was the book, you ask? "The Shoemaker's Wife" by Adriana Trigiani. Amazing. Read it.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Right Where I Want To Be
This week has been all sorts of craziness and at the end of the day, I feel grateful that I've been allowed to be exactly where I am right now. I've been given the opportunity to do things for loved ones this week that remind me that my favorite role is that of The Helper.
Scott got sick for like the first time in a year (at least) on Tuesday night. It was so strange to be sending him to bed, making sure he was eating and drinking enough, and stacking up extra blankets as he burned with fever and shivered at the same time. All to often he ends up being the caregiver for me. I am grateful for the opportunity to have the tables reversed a bit. That said...I'm all too grateful that he is feeling better now. It's hard when my "babycare backup" is out of commission and I am it. I am grateful to have a husband who is so willing to help out, and the reminder of how much he does for us. You never realize how much you love and rely on someone/something until they aren't there anymore.
Kevin has been a funny little cuss this week. Sometimes I think we are hitting the emotional roller coaster early with her--one minute she is screaming and the next she is giggling. The other day she had a giggle fit everytime she looked at Scott. He didn't even have to be looking back at her--she just saw him and she started laughing. Then last night I'd put a bib on her to keep her from drooling all over her pjs before bed and as I walked away she ripped it right off. The girl has attitude. I am so blessed to be her mommy. Even when she cries and I can't get her to go to sleep before 11:00 at night, I cuddle her a little closer, sing a little softer and longer, and kiss her a few extra times.
A friend of ours sent his special someone on a mission this week. Poor guy. We love him, and we know what the whole waiting game is like, and we also know what makes the waiting game easier and what makes it harder and this poor couple seems to have made it as hard on themselves as possible (sorry Jonny). I am grateful that he has sought our advice and come to us for comfort. I love being available when a friend is in need. There really is nothing better than being there for someone.
My grandmother passed away this past Sunday. I surely miss her. My aunts and uncles asked me to help write her life sketch and to share some of my memories of her at her funeral. This is an exceptional honor for me as my grandma has 30-ish grandchildren. I have been stressing over my talk all week. Trying to put a lifetime of memories into a five-minute talk is impossible--and choosing what to include and what to keep out is an equally daunting task. I just want to do her memory justice. Today I spent over an hour reading through her personal history. I am so grateful for the record she so caringly put together for her posterity. Love for her God, her husband, her children, and her grandchildren fills each page. I learned things about her I'd never known before. And at the same time, I am grateful for all the things I do know about her--things that I learned from growing up next door, from living with her for a few short months, from weekly visits and taking time to serve her. I don't regret any of that time and I know she knows how much I love her.
Today I mopped my mother's kitchen floor for the first time in at least two years. I'd forgotten how much time goes into that job to truly make the tile shine (my little sister took over while I was on my mission and does it most often now). I am grateful that Heavenly Father has placed me in a position where I have been able to be there for my family this week. I have learned that there is no such thing as sacrifice when you are giving up something that would have blessed only you in order to bless the lives of those you love. Such an opportunity is an honor, and I am grateful that my siblings allowed us such an experience this week.
In the end, I have learned this week that I am exactly where I want to be. I am grateful for opportunities to follow through on promptings from the Holy Ghost and serve those around me. This week has taught me that I have so much.
PS- I am also unbelievably grateful that the ridiculous "Twilight" sensation is coming to a close with the release of the final movie today. I am a PROUD anti-Twilight woman who thinks all of those books should be burned...well, at least the fourth one should be burned for sure, the others are just stupid. I know, I have read them. They have no literary merit whatsoever. And to moms of teenage girls everywhere--beware, there is a REASON that the final two movies were almost given an "R" rating!
Scott got sick for like the first time in a year (at least) on Tuesday night. It was so strange to be sending him to bed, making sure he was eating and drinking enough, and stacking up extra blankets as he burned with fever and shivered at the same time. All to often he ends up being the caregiver for me. I am grateful for the opportunity to have the tables reversed a bit. That said...I'm all too grateful that he is feeling better now. It's hard when my "babycare backup" is out of commission and I am it. I am grateful to have a husband who is so willing to help out, and the reminder of how much he does for us. You never realize how much you love and rely on someone/something until they aren't there anymore.
Kevin has been a funny little cuss this week. Sometimes I think we are hitting the emotional roller coaster early with her--one minute she is screaming and the next she is giggling. The other day she had a giggle fit everytime she looked at Scott. He didn't even have to be looking back at her--she just saw him and she started laughing. Then last night I'd put a bib on her to keep her from drooling all over her pjs before bed and as I walked away she ripped it right off. The girl has attitude. I am so blessed to be her mommy. Even when she cries and I can't get her to go to sleep before 11:00 at night, I cuddle her a little closer, sing a little softer and longer, and kiss her a few extra times.
A friend of ours sent his special someone on a mission this week. Poor guy. We love him, and we know what the whole waiting game is like, and we also know what makes the waiting game easier and what makes it harder and this poor couple seems to have made it as hard on themselves as possible (sorry Jonny). I am grateful that he has sought our advice and come to us for comfort. I love being available when a friend is in need. There really is nothing better than being there for someone.
My grandmother passed away this past Sunday. I surely miss her. My aunts and uncles asked me to help write her life sketch and to share some of my memories of her at her funeral. This is an exceptional honor for me as my grandma has 30-ish grandchildren. I have been stressing over my talk all week. Trying to put a lifetime of memories into a five-minute talk is impossible--and choosing what to include and what to keep out is an equally daunting task. I just want to do her memory justice. Today I spent over an hour reading through her personal history. I am so grateful for the record she so caringly put together for her posterity. Love for her God, her husband, her children, and her grandchildren fills each page. I learned things about her I'd never known before. And at the same time, I am grateful for all the things I do know about her--things that I learned from growing up next door, from living with her for a few short months, from weekly visits and taking time to serve her. I don't regret any of that time and I know she knows how much I love her.
Today I mopped my mother's kitchen floor for the first time in at least two years. I'd forgotten how much time goes into that job to truly make the tile shine (my little sister took over while I was on my mission and does it most often now). I am grateful that Heavenly Father has placed me in a position where I have been able to be there for my family this week. I have learned that there is no such thing as sacrifice when you are giving up something that would have blessed only you in order to bless the lives of those you love. Such an opportunity is an honor, and I am grateful that my siblings allowed us such an experience this week.
In the end, I have learned this week that I am exactly where I want to be. I am grateful for opportunities to follow through on promptings from the Holy Ghost and serve those around me. This week has taught me that I have so much.
PS- I am also unbelievably grateful that the ridiculous "Twilight" sensation is coming to a close with the release of the final movie today. I am a PROUD anti-Twilight woman who thinks all of those books should be burned...well, at least the fourth one should be burned for sure, the others are just stupid. I know, I have read them. They have no literary merit whatsoever. And to moms of teenage girls everywhere--beware, there is a REASON that the final two movies were almost given an "R" rating!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Trick or Treat or... something else entirely?
Last week, Scott and I had something that most of our
society labels as a “scare” but I am choosing to call “a fork in the road.”
One night about two weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of
the night. Our daughter was crying in her sleep, but it wasn’t the nursery I
ran to.
It was the bathroom.
I lost everything in my stomach and I thought, “Oh, no, here
we go again.”
My mind raced with all the fears I had about having another
baby. Giving birth to Kevin was no picnic—and I certainly didn’t relish the
thought of throwing up every day for the next seven, eight, maybe nine months. Or
getting less sleep than I already was. Or trying to teach Kevin to walk when I
could only waddle myself. And I didn’t think I could go through the agony of a
sick baby in the NICU again.
Groan.
After Scott calmed down the baby and I cleaned up my mess,
we crawled back into bed and he tucked the covers around me. One look at him
and I knew he was wondering the same thing I was thinking. “Do you think you
could be pregnant?” he whispered.
For the next week, as I continued to not feel well, I
wondered, I worried, I did the math. Every time I looked at Kevin I counted the
months. If I go full-term this time—please
bless I go full term this time—I’m due in July. That’s 16 months.
Too soon. She’s not
ready. He’s not ready. I’M not ready.
When we got back from running errands and I carried Kevin up
the stairs, I wondered how I would manage carrying her and a car seat. The
stairs are too steep to let a 16-month-old climb on her own. And the next baby—please bless I go full-term—is likely to come out weighing upwards
of nine pounds.
When I picked up the house and cleaned, I wondered where on
earth we would put another baby. Our bedroom
was already full of the desk and bookcases we’d moved to make room in the
nursery and living room. Kevin’s room was overrunning with baby items she’s
already outgrown in eight months. The storage closet downstairs is full to the
brim of bikes my husband doesn’t have time to ride, Christmas decorations I can’t
bear to get rid of, fans we can’t survive the summer heat without…oh no. Pregnant during the summer?
I’m gonna die.
When Scott called to tell me about work, I wondered how he
would be able to stand working at his current job for three more months just to
make sure we could somewhat pay for another baby. Or what if that dream job actually
came along in May and we had to move and have a baby on Cobra insurance?
When I put Kevin down for a nap, I wondered what we would do
about the crib situation. I didn’t want to buy another one. Kevin wouldn’t be
ready for a big girl bed at 16 months, even if we had room for one. I don’t relish
the thought of buying another crib anyway. We’d picked this one knowing that it
would cuddle all of our babies.
I wondered about how things would go this time. I’ve been
telling myself since Kevin was born that I better just expect a stay in the NICU.
IDM, that’s what they’ll always call my babies: Infant of a Diabetic Mother. In their first days, Kevin’s siblings
will likely have the same difficulties she did regulating her blood sugar. Like her, would they have to wait over a week
to enjoy their first meal? Or would I get to actually nurse the baby normally this time?
Would nursing even work? Breastfeeding with Kevin was a nightmare because we
got off to such a rough start. She didn’t want me, and when she did, she wanted
a bottle an hour later. So I pumped and pumped and pumped to make it to my goal
of six months and then we said good riddance as I cleaned and put away the
breast pump and made room in our cupboard for cans of formula. But, maybe, just
maybe…I’d be able to nurse this baby within hours of his/her being born. And I
wouldn’t have to rely on a pump all day, just once in a while. Maybe I could
get it right this time.
And then, sometimes, when Kevin was napping and there was
peace and quiet, I wondered if we would have a boy or a girl. A girl would be
nice, we already have everything we need for a girl. Except a name. We have a
boy name all picked out (actually, we have two). But we don’t have any boy
clothes. Or boy nursery decorations. Or boy experience. I would surf
babycenter.com for names, for pregnancy information I’ve already forgotten. We’d
be due at the beginning of July. Well,
July is good. During July my mom isn’t teaching school. She could help.
But she’s going to
think you are crazy…we’ve had how many conversations in the last three months about
having babies too close together? How am I going to explain this one? Nobody
will buy that he/she is not a surprise…and how am I going to break it to my
friends that struggle with infertility that I’d been blessed with a too-soon
"oops" baby when they are going on years of trying for their first?
Sometimes, I’d think back to those days of when we brought
Kevin home from the hospital. How small she was. The way she would grip my
finger and cuddle up on my shoulder (she’s decided she’s too big to cuddle her
head on my shoulder now). Back when she
depended on me for everything. And how I loved holding my little newborn in my
arms.
Maybe, just maybe, we
could survive another baby.
My period was one day late, then two. It was Halloween. As
we packed Kevin up to go home from my parents, my mom made a comment about
Halloween next year and maybe I’d be sick again by then with a little brother
or sister. Scott and I exchanged smiles. Maybe
sooner than next fall, we both thought, and we were okay with it.
But the next morning, when I felt World War 3 begin in my
uterus, I realized, as I breathed a guilty sigh of relief, that it was okay.
Either way. We weren’t expecting, but if we were, it would be okay. And
finally, for the first time since Kevin had been born, I wasn’t terrified at
the thought of being pregnant and going through labor all over again.
We are making progress.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Mmm....November...
I'll be honest.
I've never liked November.
Until now.
When I was younger, I thought November was such a dreary month. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Louisa May Alcott would have her most-loved heroine Jo March born in November. Now, I think there is a certain something romantical about it. Good things in my life have happened in November, like birthdays of some of my favorite people, my first baptisms in the mission field, my first date, and the real return of basketball season (Go Aggies!).
Today, I am happy. I am excited about life, even with all of its uncertainties. Probably this comes from just getting off the phone with one of my dearest friends--I've been waiting to have that "tell him to go to this jeweler, not that one" conversation with her for a long while now. Nothing like a pending engagement/wedding to get a girl excited about life.
Also, I spent an hour and a half writing this morning. NaNoWriMo is underway! And I'm only 300 words behind already!. I also want to completely rewrite everything I spent this morning writing...but, hey, the goal for me is not exactly 50,000 words or a finished rough draft by the end of the month. It's to spend time each day writing and getting back into the habit. If I can reach 30,000 words I will be ecstatic! And no, nobody gets to read any of it until at least December (this means you Scotty!)
Here's all the preview you get:
For Kevin, my real-life fairy tale
And for her father, who listens to the things I’m not saying
I might not be the type of person who can handle a working career in addition to being a mom, but I want my daughter growing up seeing me being passionate about my interests and hobbies. I've already seen this in her as she's shown more and more interest in books lately (especially the ones I'm reading!). I want her to know that she can be anything she wants to be. I chose to be her mom first and everything else second. That doesn't mean that those "secondary" things can't be important too though!
We have so much to look forward to this month. NaNoWriMo is just the beginning. There is also our new family history class, creating our annual Thankful Chart, Stake Conference, my nephew's baby blessing, finding out if our newest addition to the Fowler family is a boy/girl (Kevin and I are really hoping for a girl cousin!), more football and basketball games, Thanksgiving Break, Kevin learning to crawl/scoot (she's getting oh so close!) and spending time with family and friends. Maybe a few life surprises along the way--you never know!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
I Did and I Didn't
No, I didn't post last week.
I attribute that to my non-sleeping daughter, a busy week, and a Thursday migrane.
Also, I went on a date to the Temple with my husband that night, which was slightly more important than this blog (gasp!).
So, I apologize.
BUT....
I have big news.
I am taking on a challenge.
And I am super excited about it.
And it is going to get me writing again.
You, see, November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo for short).
And...I signed up today!
Which means, starting Thursday, I am going to be doing a whole lot of writing. (Keep your fingers crossed that Kevin will start taking really good naps...and that my husband will still be fed, because sometimes when I get into a writing mood, I can't come out of it). The sponsors of the event compare this to running a marathon--instead it's writing a marathon.
What is NaNoWriMo? Here is a breakdown:
1. Aspiring authors set a goal to write an entire novel during the month of November.
2. The novel should be at least 50,000 words (that breaks down to an average of 1667 words a day and roughly a 175 page manuscript by the end of the month).
3. Writers are encouraged to forgo editing and ignore grammatical mistakes. The goal is to have a completed rough draft by the end of the month.
I'm a little nervous, but mostly just excited. I have two days to figure out which of the five or six stories in my head I'm going to write. Fantasy? Historical fiction? The story of one of my ancestors? Plain old fiction?
Who knows.
But I think that will be part of the adventure.
Start with a story. A setting. A character. A sentence.
And see where I end up by the end of November.
I'll keep you updated :)
I attribute that to my non-sleeping daughter, a busy week, and a Thursday migrane.
Also, I went on a date to the Temple with my husband that night, which was slightly more important than this blog (gasp!).
So, I apologize.
BUT....
I have big news.
I am taking on a challenge.
And I am super excited about it.
And it is going to get me writing again.
You, see, November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo for short).
And...I signed up today!
Which means, starting Thursday, I am going to be doing a whole lot of writing. (Keep your fingers crossed that Kevin will start taking really good naps...and that my husband will still be fed, because sometimes when I get into a writing mood, I can't come out of it). The sponsors of the event compare this to running a marathon--instead it's writing a marathon.
What is NaNoWriMo? Here is a breakdown:
1. Aspiring authors set a goal to write an entire novel during the month of November.
2. The novel should be at least 50,000 words (that breaks down to an average of 1667 words a day and roughly a 175 page manuscript by the end of the month).
3. Writers are encouraged to forgo editing and ignore grammatical mistakes. The goal is to have a completed rough draft by the end of the month.
I'm a little nervous, but mostly just excited. I have two days to figure out which of the five or six stories in my head I'm going to write. Fantasy? Historical fiction? The story of one of my ancestors? Plain old fiction?
Who knows.
But I think that will be part of the adventure.
Start with a story. A setting. A character. A sentence.
And see where I end up by the end of November.
I'll keep you updated :)
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Writing Prompts
So, I know I promised something good this week. And I've put a lot of effort into finding a good idea, really, I have.
I got nuthin.
Yesterday I decided to google "writing prompts" and see if I could find some inspiration. I found lots of writing prompts for amateur fiction writers (of which I am one, when I'm in the mood). But nothing that seemed to drum up a memory which I could base a blog post around. So I googled "nonfiction writing prompts."
And I found this list: 101 Nonfiction Writing Prompts.
I'll give you the first ten with my first reactions:
And I came to one conclusion: if any bloggers actually used any of these prompts, we would all be so bored out of our minds that we'd stop reading before we began.
So here are a few writing prompts I came up with today:
1. Say your friend Taylor Swift, who doesn't have any real relationship experience of her own, came to you to ask about your relationships for a song idea. What might she write about? Which stations would play it? And who would cry? Pre-teens, teens, grandmas? (Note: I asked Scott this question and he wrote me a beautiful song that started with "he was short and shy" and ended with "love letters.").
2. What side effects do you experience from anesthesia? What side effects do you wish you had? (Note: got my ingrown toe nail fixed today and was a little weirded out by my numb toe...TMI, sorry)
3. What if you could put your face on any cartoon character's body? Who would you choose to be and why? (Note: I got to do this today at the North Logan Pumpkin Walk!)
4. What if your child actually went to bed at the same time each night? What would you do with all that extra time? What if she actually STAYED asleep? (Note: ahhh, the possibilities.)
5. What if people stopped lying about their babies being so-called "perfect-sleepers"? (Note: Mommas everywhere would feel a lot less overwhelmed!)
6. What if you could pick professions for your siblings? Your children? Your best friends?
7. What if you had nightmares about pinterest? Like, as in, you were surrounded by crafts and projects you felt compelled to start but could never finish--sometimes never even get started? (Note: if you have an answer to this, please let me know. I've been having pinterest nightmares for two weeks, yet I can't seem to stay away...and somewhere in the dreams about cute things I have to make for my daughter, I hear her crying and then start reading sleep-training articles and can't differentiate between her actually crying and dreaming. Awful.)
8. What would you lose if your hopes and dreams were instantly granted? For example, no couple ever had to wait for a baby or a career or a house or a job? (Note: Because sometimes the best lessons we learn in life come from the waiting. I hate this, but I know it is true!)
Okay, I think that is enough to think about before bed tonight. I will continue to post writing prompts as I think about them.
I suggest you don't buy the book mentioned at the link above. Instead, spend 15 minutes with a child. You'll come up with more than 101 (or 1,699, as the book promises) things to write about!
Seriously, though...pinterest nightmares are the worst.
Also, I don't care that this blog has only 150ish page views. I'm not trying to get on pinterest, or earn money from sponsors, or end up on Studio 5 on KSL. I'm trying to be me.
I got nuthin.
Yesterday I decided to google "writing prompts" and see if I could find some inspiration. I found lots of writing prompts for amateur fiction writers (of which I am one, when I'm in the mood). But nothing that seemed to drum up a memory which I could base a blog post around. So I googled "nonfiction writing prompts."
And I found this list: 101 Nonfiction Writing Prompts.
I'll give you the first ten with my first reactions:
- 1What's the fastest way to complete a (task) with (name of software)? The fastest way to complete the dishes is to guilt your husband into doing them.
- 2What are the advantages of using (tech product 1) over (tech product 2)?The advantages of using disposable diapers over cloth diapers are numerous, and begin with less poopy laundry.
- 3How do you find blogs that you can guest post on?Why would you want to guest blog? Get your own dang blog.
- 4What kinds of things stress children out?What kinds of things stress my child out? When I don't feed her fast enough, when her father sneezes, when she is too tired to sleep, and when I put the remotes and cell phones just out of her reach. Poor thing.
- 5How can you other people to submit articles to your blog?How is this question proper English?
- 6As a beginning blogger, what's the best way to ensure long term success?Don't erase your blog. Post on it. Done and done.
- 7How can you make your blog stand out in a crowded niche?I would suggest NOT buying into the cooking blog, sewing blog, crafty blog, I'm-the-best-Mormon-Mommy-Ever blog. Basically, if you are trying to get on pinterest, you're in too crowded of a niche. Get out of it. Don't try to compete. Chances are you are trying to prove something to an audience that just wants to know a cheaper way to run a house and probably has already called their mom and their mom had no answers so now they've turned to google, and when google had no answers, they turned to pinterest.
- 8What does it take to become a top blog in your niche?Going off my above answer, obviously, to become a top blog, you need to create your own niche.
- 9How do you introduce the vegan lifestyle to a child?You say, "if you don't learn how to eat meat and things with milk, eggs, and cheese, your taste buds will die and you will have to eat like chronically ill people or vegans. It doesn't taste very good, but these are very brave people to do it, and we respect them, and we eat their meat and dessert."
- 10What are some good bedtime habits for parent and child to adopt?Bahahahahahahaha. Yeah right.
And I came to one conclusion: if any bloggers actually used any of these prompts, we would all be so bored out of our minds that we'd stop reading before we began.
So here are a few writing prompts I came up with today:
1. Say your friend Taylor Swift, who doesn't have any real relationship experience of her own, came to you to ask about your relationships for a song idea. What might she write about? Which stations would play it? And who would cry? Pre-teens, teens, grandmas? (Note: I asked Scott this question and he wrote me a beautiful song that started with "he was short and shy" and ended with "love letters.").
2. What side effects do you experience from anesthesia? What side effects do you wish you had? (Note: got my ingrown toe nail fixed today and was a little weirded out by my numb toe...TMI, sorry)
3. What if you could put your face on any cartoon character's body? Who would you choose to be and why? (Note: I got to do this today at the North Logan Pumpkin Walk!)
4. What if your child actually went to bed at the same time each night? What would you do with all that extra time? What if she actually STAYED asleep? (Note: ahhh, the possibilities.)
5. What if people stopped lying about their babies being so-called "perfect-sleepers"? (Note: Mommas everywhere would feel a lot less overwhelmed!)
6. What if you could pick professions for your siblings? Your children? Your best friends?
7. What if you had nightmares about pinterest? Like, as in, you were surrounded by crafts and projects you felt compelled to start but could never finish--sometimes never even get started? (Note: if you have an answer to this, please let me know. I've been having pinterest nightmares for two weeks, yet I can't seem to stay away...and somewhere in the dreams about cute things I have to make for my daughter, I hear her crying and then start reading sleep-training articles and can't differentiate between her actually crying and dreaming. Awful.)
8. What would you lose if your hopes and dreams were instantly granted? For example, no couple ever had to wait for a baby or a career or a house or a job? (Note: Because sometimes the best lessons we learn in life come from the waiting. I hate this, but I know it is true!)
Okay, I think that is enough to think about before bed tonight. I will continue to post writing prompts as I think about them.
I suggest you don't buy the book mentioned at the link above. Instead, spend 15 minutes with a child. You'll come up with more than 101 (or 1,699, as the book promises) things to write about!
Seriously, though...pinterest nightmares are the worst.
Also, I don't care that this blog has only 150ish page views. I'm not trying to get on pinterest, or earn money from sponsors, or end up on Studio 5 on KSL. I'm trying to be me.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
I almost forgot.
Today is Thursday.
This week has flown by.
It wasn't supposed to.
It was supposed to be agonizingly slow.
Instead, here it is Thursday, and I have very little to show for the week. Here is what I have been up to:
1. Stressing over family pictures. I desperately want our family to look "cute." But since I haven't had an updated wardrobe since before my mission (with the exception of new maternity clothes last winter that I only got to wear for about two and a half months thanks to my premie), I'm a little concerned about what to wear. Of course, buying things for Kevin is no problem (feeling guilty about spending money, however, is a problem, for me at least). Finding something I like enough for me and then talking myself into spending money on clothes for me is torture. But, two orders to oldnavy.com later, I think all we have left to find is an undershirt for me. And maybe a new shirt for Scotty. But he's okay wearing what he has. Because I think he looks hott in anything! Lucky he isn't as picky as I am.
2. Working on my not-a-surprise Christmas present for Scotty: his mission scrapbook. Shutterfly is the best website ever and I am addicted. This is my third book project in about three months. I have loved going through his mission pictures and pulling out the box of letters he sent me while he was on his mission and then while I finished mine. I was reminded this week of the amazing missionary I married. And, miraculously, new notes have shown up here and there reminding me that the here and now is just as beautiful as those not-so-much-love letters we wrote back when we merely wondered whether or not the other person like, like-liked us. I think my favorite was an addition to my Tuesday To Do List: "make out with Scotty." (It's one of the few things that did get crossed off that day).
3. Being relieved. This week could have been a super-life changing week for my little sister. I don't feel like I can share more than that out of respect to her, but I am so grateful, for her sake, that things didn't turn out the way they could have. Sometimes life stinks. Sometimes Heavenly Father gives us these wake-up calls that remind us to be grateful for what we have, even when what we have may not seem all that great at the time.
4. Playing with Kevin. We've read lots of stories, dirtied lots of bibs, and sang lots of songs. Oh, and we've been sleep training. After a week of sleeping in three-hour shifts, we were amazed that she's managed to sleep more than nine hours two nights in a row! We're hoping and praying this becomes her new normal. She turned seven months old yesterday and is mastering the art of sitting on her own this week. Thanks, baby, for the reminder that time never slows down!
5. Filling time. Scott has had to go into work early (six am) almost every day this week and has had lots of homework assignments and studying to do. So I haven't seen him very much. At least not as much as I'm used to. You'd be amazed at how much time we manage to find to be together, even though he works full time and goes to school full time. Today he played hooky from his first two classes. Said he just needed time with his girls. We had a lovely afternoon! I can't tell you how much we are looking forward to retirement--that is, if there is such a thing as retirement by the time we reach 65.
Here's to hoping!
Tune in next week for something brilliant. Promise :)
This week has flown by.
It wasn't supposed to.
It was supposed to be agonizingly slow.
Instead, here it is Thursday, and I have very little to show for the week. Here is what I have been up to:
1. Stressing over family pictures. I desperately want our family to look "cute." But since I haven't had an updated wardrobe since before my mission (with the exception of new maternity clothes last winter that I only got to wear for about two and a half months thanks to my premie), I'm a little concerned about what to wear. Of course, buying things for Kevin is no problem (feeling guilty about spending money, however, is a problem, for me at least). Finding something I like enough for me and then talking myself into spending money on clothes for me is torture. But, two orders to oldnavy.com later, I think all we have left to find is an undershirt for me. And maybe a new shirt for Scotty. But he's okay wearing what he has. Because I think he looks hott in anything! Lucky he isn't as picky as I am.
2. Working on my not-a-surprise Christmas present for Scotty: his mission scrapbook. Shutterfly is the best website ever and I am addicted. This is my third book project in about three months. I have loved going through his mission pictures and pulling out the box of letters he sent me while he was on his mission and then while I finished mine. I was reminded this week of the amazing missionary I married. And, miraculously, new notes have shown up here and there reminding me that the here and now is just as beautiful as those not-so-much-love letters we wrote back when we merely wondered whether or not the other person like, like-liked us. I think my favorite was an addition to my Tuesday To Do List: "make out with Scotty." (It's one of the few things that did get crossed off that day).
3. Being relieved. This week could have been a super-life changing week for my little sister. I don't feel like I can share more than that out of respect to her, but I am so grateful, for her sake, that things didn't turn out the way they could have. Sometimes life stinks. Sometimes Heavenly Father gives us these wake-up calls that remind us to be grateful for what we have, even when what we have may not seem all that great at the time.
4. Playing with Kevin. We've read lots of stories, dirtied lots of bibs, and sang lots of songs. Oh, and we've been sleep training. After a week of sleeping in three-hour shifts, we were amazed that she's managed to sleep more than nine hours two nights in a row! We're hoping and praying this becomes her new normal. She turned seven months old yesterday and is mastering the art of sitting on her own this week. Thanks, baby, for the reminder that time never slows down!
5. Filling time. Scott has had to go into work early (six am) almost every day this week and has had lots of homework assignments and studying to do. So I haven't seen him very much. At least not as much as I'm used to. You'd be amazed at how much time we manage to find to be together, even though he works full time and goes to school full time. Today he played hooky from his first two classes. Said he just needed time with his girls. We had a lovely afternoon! I can't tell you how much we are looking forward to retirement--that is, if there is such a thing as retirement by the time we reach 65.
Here's to hoping!
Tune in next week for something brilliant. Promise :)
Thursday, October 4, 2012
An Ode to Joy
I played the violin for three short years of my life. If you ask my siblings, even three years was probably too long a time. I was a screecher. I never reached that point of the stunning vibratos and enduring high notes. Don't believe me? Ask my mom. After all, it was her comment to some unknown friend on the telephone that I overheard one day while taking a break during practicing ("I just can't wait for the day when she plays nicely and doesn't squeak anymore") that led to my quitting of all things strings. For some reason, I feel the need to tell you why I quit before I tell you what I learned from playing.
I remember one violin lesson in particular. I was working on a recital piece, I don't remember which one, just that it was in one of those classical music books that are sort of cream-colored with the name of some famous composer surrounded in leaves on the cover. To me, those books were The Not Fun To Play Books. (I was more of an Arkansas Traveler type of a girl, not so much a minuet lady).
I did pretty well through the first few bars of the song, but there were three measures right in the middle of the page that kept tripping me up. My teacher kept making me repeat them over and over and over and finally she said, "Marinda, you are so worried about what is coming next that you are missing the easy notes right in front of you."
I've heard her voice come back to me several times over the years during periods of waiting. Waiting to graduate from high school so I could go to college. Waiting for Prince Charming to come (when he was a letter away all along). Waiting for my mission call so I could just leave already. Waiting an eternity, even though it was only minutes, to hear the diagnosis from the doctor that I knew was coming all along. Waiting to go home to a home that wasn't home anymore. Waiting for the go-ahead to go back to Texas. Waiting for my mission to be over so I could just get married already. Waiting for everything to be okay with my health so we could have a baby. Waiting for that last semester of college to be over so I could get on with being a mom. Waiting for my baby to get out of the hospital so I could really get on with being a mom. Waiting for my husband to finish his degree so we could get a real job.
Right now, I am worried about what is coming next. For me, for my little family, for my parents, for my siblings.
It occurred to me yesterday that I can't be so overwhelmed with what might happen that I'm not preparing for what will happen (whatever that may be).
So today I have been playing the "easy notes." I cleaned out my closet and created a bag to give to the DI. I called one of my best friends just to check in and see how she is doing. I read a few chapters of a book. I fed, changed, played, and cuddled with my baby. We had story time and she tried to eat the books. I paid the rent. I got groceries and checked the mail. I took Scott to school.
The easy notes add up. The combine together, they dance around each other, they strike chords in us that we didn't realize meant so much. They leave each listener that takes the time to appreciate them, in their simplicity, filled with awe.
After all, there is a reason "Ode to Joy" is in beginner songbooks.
I remember one violin lesson in particular. I was working on a recital piece, I don't remember which one, just that it was in one of those classical music books that are sort of cream-colored with the name of some famous composer surrounded in leaves on the cover. To me, those books were The Not Fun To Play Books. (I was more of an Arkansas Traveler type of a girl, not so much a minuet lady).
I did pretty well through the first few bars of the song, but there were three measures right in the middle of the page that kept tripping me up. My teacher kept making me repeat them over and over and over and finally she said, "Marinda, you are so worried about what is coming next that you are missing the easy notes right in front of you."
I've heard her voice come back to me several times over the years during periods of waiting. Waiting to graduate from high school so I could go to college. Waiting for Prince Charming to come (when he was a letter away all along). Waiting for my mission call so I could just leave already. Waiting an eternity, even though it was only minutes, to hear the diagnosis from the doctor that I knew was coming all along. Waiting to go home to a home that wasn't home anymore. Waiting for the go-ahead to go back to Texas. Waiting for my mission to be over so I could just get married already. Waiting for everything to be okay with my health so we could have a baby. Waiting for that last semester of college to be over so I could get on with being a mom. Waiting for my baby to get out of the hospital so I could really get on with being a mom. Waiting for my husband to finish his degree so we could get a real job.
Right now, I am worried about what is coming next. For me, for my little family, for my parents, for my siblings.
It occurred to me yesterday that I can't be so overwhelmed with what might happen that I'm not preparing for what will happen (whatever that may be).
So today I have been playing the "easy notes." I cleaned out my closet and created a bag to give to the DI. I called one of my best friends just to check in and see how she is doing. I read a few chapters of a book. I fed, changed, played, and cuddled with my baby. We had story time and she tried to eat the books. I paid the rent. I got groceries and checked the mail. I took Scott to school.
The easy notes add up. The combine together, they dance around each other, they strike chords in us that we didn't realize meant so much. They leave each listener that takes the time to appreciate them, in their simplicity, filled with awe.
After all, there is a reason "Ode to Joy" is in beginner songbooks.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Terminology: a post in three parts
You've seen it said a hundred different ways. A housewife, a housekeeper, stay at home mom, a domestic career woman, and my generation's pitfall: "I'm just a mom."
A dear friend of mine caught me saying this last week and was quick to remind me, "You aren't just anything. You are busy being a mom."
But I heard a term this week that I'm going to adopt. I read an article where a woman called her daughter-in-law a family builder.
Add that to my resume:
Family Builder. Job duration: forever.
I can handle that.
----
I feel like I am persistently exhausted.
I know what you are thinking. Hello, you're a mom. Welcome to the club.
But I have been persistently exhausted since about 2008. Most of the time I blame it on my own laziness, but behind that excuse is the ever present my-body-doesn't-function-properly excuse.
This week I realized I am letting these excuses get in the way. How did I come by this realization? I decided to wake my baby up from her nap (wake a sleeping baby? that's a major no no!), plunk her in her stroller, and walk 45 minutes just to go to a religion class across town.
And it was worth every step.
When I got home, I realized that I am letting "too" many excuses about my body get in the way of doing things that are good for my mind and my family. I tend to use that word "too" too much. For example:
I'm too tired. The baby is too cranky. The house is too messy. We are too poor. It costs too much money. It's too much time. It's too much effort. I'm too overwhelmed.
You get the picture.
If I take the "too" out if it, these things magically stop being excuses and start becoming statements.
I'm tired. The baby is cranky. The house is messy. We are poor. It costs money. It takes time. It takes effort. I'm overwhelmed.
Statements are easily debatable. I'm a pretty good debater. I need to stop talking myself out of things and start talking myself into them.
I can handle this.
-----
The Future.
Dun dun dun.
As an adjective, it means "to come; expected." As a noun, it means something along the lines of "fate" or "luck." Right now, in the Fowler household, it means "the great unknown."
This phrase has become a frequent term around our home as we look toward the coming months when my husband will finish his degree and get a career job. There are so many questions that surround this "expected fate" that we can't dwell on it too long or it makes us both want to barf. I think back to my days of high school journalism and the inverted pyramid of finding answers: who, what, when, where, why, and how.
Who will he be working for? What kind of job will it be--will he like it, will it pay well? When will we find the right one? Where on earth will it be? Why does the thought of moving terrify and excite me at the same time? How are we going to make ends meet in the meantime if we have to pay for a move, an extra car, Cobra insurance?
Each of these questions has a dozen follow-up questions and I don't know the answers to any of them. I have this gut feeling that everything will work out--and this feeling in my heart that nothing is going to work out the way that we expect it to--and then my mind goes into overdrive with wonder and anticipation. I see each thought, each question, each wonder pile up on my husband's shoulders as the stress increases and the weight becomes visible and I think, "It's just too much."
And then I take out the "just."
And I take out the "too."
And I think, "it's much."
Yes, it's much. But much we can do. Much we have done.Much we will do. Much we can tackle.
We can handle this.
A dear friend of mine caught me saying this last week and was quick to remind me, "You aren't just anything. You are busy being a mom."
But I heard a term this week that I'm going to adopt. I read an article where a woman called her daughter-in-law a family builder.
Add that to my resume:
Family Builder. Job duration: forever.
I can handle that.
----
I feel like I am persistently exhausted.
I know what you are thinking. Hello, you're a mom. Welcome to the club.
But I have been persistently exhausted since about 2008. Most of the time I blame it on my own laziness, but behind that excuse is the ever present my-body-doesn't-function-properly excuse.
This week I realized I am letting these excuses get in the way. How did I come by this realization? I decided to wake my baby up from her nap (wake a sleeping baby? that's a major no no!), plunk her in her stroller, and walk 45 minutes just to go to a religion class across town.
And it was worth every step.
When I got home, I realized that I am letting "too" many excuses about my body get in the way of doing things that are good for my mind and my family. I tend to use that word "too" too much. For example:
I'm too tired. The baby is too cranky. The house is too messy. We are too poor. It costs too much money. It's too much time. It's too much effort. I'm too overwhelmed.
You get the picture.
If I take the "too" out if it, these things magically stop being excuses and start becoming statements.
I'm tired. The baby is cranky. The house is messy. We are poor. It costs money. It takes time. It takes effort. I'm overwhelmed.
Statements are easily debatable. I'm a pretty good debater. I need to stop talking myself out of things and start talking myself into them.
I can handle this.
-----
The Future.
Dun dun dun.
As an adjective, it means "to come; expected." As a noun, it means something along the lines of "fate" or "luck." Right now, in the Fowler household, it means "the great unknown."
This phrase has become a frequent term around our home as we look toward the coming months when my husband will finish his degree and get a career job. There are so many questions that surround this "expected fate" that we can't dwell on it too long or it makes us both want to barf. I think back to my days of high school journalism and the inverted pyramid of finding answers: who, what, when, where, why, and how.
Who will he be working for? What kind of job will it be--will he like it, will it pay well? When will we find the right one? Where on earth will it be? Why does the thought of moving terrify and excite me at the same time? How are we going to make ends meet in the meantime if we have to pay for a move, an extra car, Cobra insurance?
Each of these questions has a dozen follow-up questions and I don't know the answers to any of them. I have this gut feeling that everything will work out--and this feeling in my heart that nothing is going to work out the way that we expect it to--and then my mind goes into overdrive with wonder and anticipation. I see each thought, each question, each wonder pile up on my husband's shoulders as the stress increases and the weight becomes visible and I think, "It's just too much."
And then I take out the "just."
And I take out the "too."
And I think, "it's much."
Yes, it's much. But much we can do. Much we have done.Much we will do. Much we can tackle.
We can handle this.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Mom Lesson #174
I have learned another "Mom Lesson" this last week. I don't even know which number this mom lesson is (I should start a notebook and number them), so we'll start on 174. Today's gem of wisdom is this:
Mom Lesson #174
Moms do not get sick days. They get sick minutes and if they are really lucky, sick hours.
This has defined my last week. About two weeks ago, Kevin and I both got colds. Because she is a healthy, bouncy baby who likes to take three hour naps in the afternoon, her cold was gone by last Saturday. By last Saturday night, my cold was much worse.
And because I have a husband who does way more than his fair share, I decided that instead of sleeping, I would get up with Kevin during her early-morning feedings for a few days in a row. I'm also trying to put our home in order, so I hadn't taken much time to sit down and rest like I usually do and my cold got worser and worserer. By Monday night, I felt awful. By Tuesday morning, I could barely breathe. Around 2 am I decided to go sleep on our loveseat recliner and began counting down the hours to 8 am, when the Instacare around the block opened.
I woke up to Scott doing homework on the couch and watching me. I knew there was no way I could ask him to stay home from work, since he was so busy and I knew he needed to be there. So, around 7 am, he left me and baby girl on the couch. He said it was the saddest face he's ever seen on me. It probably was. I had no idea how I was going to survive that day--I figured I could get as far as the instacare with the stroller, but a whole day taking care of Kevin, by myself, without a nap, when I'd barely slept all night?
Ten minutes later, as I was changing a diaper, I heard the front door open. When I came out of the nursery and back into the living room, I saw a dozen yellow roses and lots of delicious chocolate (because oh, by the way, did I mention that it was our anniversary?). The best part, however, was my husband standing there telling me he wasn't going into work that day.
Mom Lesson #175:
Life is easier if you has a husband who brings you chocolate and puts you back to bed.
So I was lucky enough to get some sick hours that day as he took care of Kevin before going to school.
Mom Lesson #176:
Every Mom needs access to an Auntie who can come in and save the day!
Enter my little sister Liz, who played with Kevin while I took a nap and Scott went to class and did homework.
I have a wonderful family.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Time and Cake
Scott has now been back in school for three weeks. This means that his homework loads are now fairly consistent and study time more of a necessity. In addition to his regular full-time classload (and full-time workload), he is busy applying for internships and going to open houses, etc. This means he is gone much more than either of us would like.
At this point, I'm glad I didn't marry a prospective lawyer or doctor (my kudos to Holly and Eliza...not sure how you girls do it!). A two-year, part-time Masters of Accounting program and or MBA is sounding like plenty enough school to put my husband through at the moment.
While Scott is busy getting started on the road to a career, I'm...well...I guess I'm doing the same thing. At home.
Raising my daughter is my career now. And you know what? I'm not sad about it. Yes, I get cabin fever quite often. And on days like yesterday, when Kevin and I are both sickly and Scott is gone from 7:45 am until 10:30 pm with only an hour break for dinner around 4:00, it means I want to pull my hair out.
Only I don't have very much hair, so I refrain from doing that.
He sends me texts during class, just to check on his girls. He took the iPod, so he can chat with me and it ends in pep talks that we give each other. This was last night's:
It seems to me that the days and weeks are getting longer, but the months are going faster.
Even when the long days end in exhaustion and begin in fatigue, I am so grateful to be where I am right now. Before my daughter was born, I got a lot of flack from my professors for "putting my dreams" on hold in order to raise my family. I think that in today's society there is the misunderstanding that you can have your cake and eat it too--a woman shouldn't have to put career goals on hold "just" for a family. Who knows? Maybe another woman can have a family and a career at the same time. In fact, some of my very best friends are doing just that. I have learned, however, that this is not the case for me. In my mind, finding a career other than the one I am pursuing right now means that I have two smaller pieces of cake instead of a big piece with the possibility of seconds later.
It's interesting to me how being a stay-at-home mom has become somewhat of a controversial topic in today's society. There are times that I hold my tongue in a church discussion or a conversation with friends because I know that what I believe deep in my heart might not be a welcome comment. It's not that I think my mom friends who work love their children any less. I know they love their babies as much as I love mine. And it's not that the decision to work isn't right for them. I'm in no position to say whether it is or it isn't. All I can say is what I feel is right for me. And what I feel, right now, is this:
If I were to pursue another career right now, I would have to miss out on those sweet little somethings that make all this worth it day in and day out. Something like the look on my baby's face when she wakes up from her morning nap (or the look on her face after 15 minutes of crying and you go to rescue her because you've both figured out she isn't going down for a nap right now). Something like reading One Fish, Two Fish and Goodnight Moon for the hundreth time in a week. Something like sleep training and food training. Something like that loneliness that comes when your main interaction for the day is with a child so young she can barely form syllables and even those aren't on purpose. Something like working on tummy time and sitting time and teaching the very basic of the basics--this is how you swallow solid food, this is how you roll over, this is how you grab a toy, this is what the toy is for, this is how you smile, this is a reason to smile. Something like realizing that she has the same look on her face that you have on yours when her daddy finally walks through the door. Something like a quiet moment of eye contact as she finishes yet another bottle and you realize that you can see your reflection in her eyes just like you can see it when you look into her dad's eyes. Something like realizing you are what makes both of those sets of eyes sparkle.
The time is going to pass anyway. Someday I will get a master's degree and write a best-seller. It doesn't matter whether I do that at 25 or 45 or 65, the accomplishment will be the same. The opportunity will be there. But these first five years of my daughter's life? They will go away. Quickly. So I will hold on to this time and prepare both her and myself for the day when things have to be different. I will not give up my opportunity to instill in her a solid foundation that will help her make her way in this world. How can I expect my children to function in a world as dangerous as today's if I don't spend every day dedicating myself first and foremost to helping them build their armor? I simply don't trust anyone else to do this job.
So we'll keep plugging along through the lonely weeknights and busy weekends and sinks full of dishes and rooms full of messes and schedules full of making baby food and picking up toys and driving Daddy to class and singing lullabies and never having time to shower properly.
This is my piece of cake.
It is huge.
And it is delicious.
At this point, I'm glad I didn't marry a prospective lawyer or doctor (my kudos to Holly and Eliza...not sure how you girls do it!). A two-year, part-time Masters of Accounting program and or MBA is sounding like plenty enough school to put my husband through at the moment.
While Scott is busy getting started on the road to a career, I'm...well...I guess I'm doing the same thing. At home.
Raising my daughter is my career now. And you know what? I'm not sad about it. Yes, I get cabin fever quite often. And on days like yesterday, when Kevin and I are both sickly and Scott is gone from 7:45 am until 10:30 pm with only an hour break for dinner around 4:00, it means I want to pull my hair out.
Only I don't have very much hair, so I refrain from doing that.
He sends me texts during class, just to check on his girls. He took the iPod, so he can chat with me and it ends in pep talks that we give each other. This was last night's:
.
Scott: I miss both of you
Tonight is torture
me: Yeah...what would you know about it?
7:07 PM Scott: Business tax
Ugh
Missing my girls...
me: Crying baby. Dirty dishes. Inside of an apartment that I haven't left in 24 hours.
7:08 PM Scott: You win. Sorry babe
7:09 PM Want me to come home early?
7:12 PM I take that as a yes
7:14 PM me: no
we can't get into that habit
7:15 PM Scott: I know. I'll do my best
me: this sucks
7:16 PM Scott: I know it does babe
:(
me: bad
7:17 PM Scott: You should get a little ice cream and put on a movie
7:18 PM me: already did
Scott: Which movie?
7:22 PM Is baby super cranky ?
7:26 PM me: YES
7:27 PM Scott: That makes me so sad
me: Nothing is helping and she won't let me put her to bed...I think she is missing you.
7:28 PM Scott: I can come home after this class
me: You need to stay for your other class babe. We'll survive.
Somehow.
7:29 PM Scott: What If I don't make it that long?
me: you have to
7:30 PM Scott: It's not fair to you. You are stuck with cranky pants all the time
me: I'm her mom. I signed up for this.
7:31 PM Scott: I still don't feel it's fair
| 6 minutes |
7:37 PM Scott: Thank you for the sacrifices that you make for our family. I feel like you have to sacrifice so much.
| 32 minutes |
8:10 PM me: I don't have to sacrifice anything. The worst sacrifice would be to let someone else raise my baby while I worked at some job I hated. Staying home with her is no sacrifice at all.
It seems to me that the days and weeks are getting longer, but the months are going faster.
Even when the long days end in exhaustion and begin in fatigue, I am so grateful to be where I am right now. Before my daughter was born, I got a lot of flack from my professors for "putting my dreams" on hold in order to raise my family. I think that in today's society there is the misunderstanding that you can have your cake and eat it too--a woman shouldn't have to put career goals on hold "just" for a family. Who knows? Maybe another woman can have a family and a career at the same time. In fact, some of my very best friends are doing just that. I have learned, however, that this is not the case for me. In my mind, finding a career other than the one I am pursuing right now means that I have two smaller pieces of cake instead of a big piece with the possibility of seconds later.
It's interesting to me how being a stay-at-home mom has become somewhat of a controversial topic in today's society. There are times that I hold my tongue in a church discussion or a conversation with friends because I know that what I believe deep in my heart might not be a welcome comment. It's not that I think my mom friends who work love their children any less. I know they love their babies as much as I love mine. And it's not that the decision to work isn't right for them. I'm in no position to say whether it is or it isn't. All I can say is what I feel is right for me. And what I feel, right now, is this:
If I were to pursue another career right now, I would have to miss out on those sweet little somethings that make all this worth it day in and day out. Something like the look on my baby's face when she wakes up from her morning nap (or the look on her face after 15 minutes of crying and you go to rescue her because you've both figured out she isn't going down for a nap right now). Something like reading One Fish, Two Fish and Goodnight Moon for the hundreth time in a week. Something like sleep training and food training. Something like that loneliness that comes when your main interaction for the day is with a child so young she can barely form syllables and even those aren't on purpose. Something like working on tummy time and sitting time and teaching the very basic of the basics--this is how you swallow solid food, this is how you roll over, this is how you grab a toy, this is what the toy is for, this is how you smile, this is a reason to smile. Something like realizing that she has the same look on her face that you have on yours when her daddy finally walks through the door. Something like a quiet moment of eye contact as she finishes yet another bottle and you realize that you can see your reflection in her eyes just like you can see it when you look into her dad's eyes. Something like realizing you are what makes both of those sets of eyes sparkle.
The time is going to pass anyway. Someday I will get a master's degree and write a best-seller. It doesn't matter whether I do that at 25 or 45 or 65, the accomplishment will be the same. The opportunity will be there. But these first five years of my daughter's life? They will go away. Quickly. So I will hold on to this time and prepare both her and myself for the day when things have to be different. I will not give up my opportunity to instill in her a solid foundation that will help her make her way in this world. How can I expect my children to function in a world as dangerous as today's if I don't spend every day dedicating myself first and foremost to helping them build their armor? I simply don't trust anyone else to do this job.
So we'll keep plugging along through the lonely weeknights and busy weekends and sinks full of dishes and rooms full of messes and schedules full of making baby food and picking up toys and driving Daddy to class and singing lullabies and never having time to shower properly.
This is my piece of cake.
It is huge.
And it is delicious.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
What I've learned about being a parent during the last six months...
1. Teething sucks.
2. Shots really stink (but how cute is it a few hours later when your daughter is mesmerized by the sparkly bandaid on her thigh and pulls it off herself when you didn't think she was even capable of intentionally grabbing things?).
3. Don't expect your daughter to like Pride and Prejudice until she is at least 18 (years, not months).
4. The giggling stage is the best one ever!
5. Maybe carrots are more delicious than I think they are. I think they are gross. Kevin loves them.
6. Being a single parent would seriously stink (and the life I live doesn't even come close to that...but on these days when Scott is gone from 7 am until 10:30 at night I say a prayer of gratitude for him and our marriage).
7. It isn't the end of the world when you misplace your camera. It just feels like it.
8. There will never ever ever be a day when your home is fully organized and clean. Ever.
9. Expect the unexpected: sometimes your child will surprise you (eight weeks early). Sometimes you will surprise yourself.
10. It's okay to decide to be D-O-N-E with nursing at six months when you've been hooked up to a machine like a dairy cow multiple times a day for multiple months because your baby didn't really get a chance to figure out the whole "nursing" thing before it was too late. Given the situation, six months is really good. Also, don't expect to be thanked for the task because chances are your daughter probably won't ever know what lengths you went to in order to give her the best possible chance at a healthy body. But it is nice to have a husband who supports and praises you even though he probably secretly thought for the last six months that you are 100% crazy. (I think he's a bit relieved that we both decided that should this situation arise again--meaning a baby who doesn't nurse--formula will be the. only. option.)
11. There is a certain magic about being the first person she sees when she wakes up in the morning. That First Smile is priceless.
12. You have to make the sounds when you read Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?
13. It's okay to stay in your pajamas past 10 am if you've been up in the middle of the night every night for the last week.
14. There is a certain beauty about being "that person"--the only one your baby wants to calm her down or cuddle her, the one with all the answers when those tending can't figure her out, the one that gets to be her main life source--not to mention a certain exhaustion.
15. Life. Is. Beautiful.
2. Shots really stink (but how cute is it a few hours later when your daughter is mesmerized by the sparkly bandaid on her thigh and pulls it off herself when you didn't think she was even capable of intentionally grabbing things?).
3. Don't expect your daughter to like Pride and Prejudice until she is at least 18 (years, not months).
4. The giggling stage is the best one ever!
5. Maybe carrots are more delicious than I think they are. I think they are gross. Kevin loves them.
6. Being a single parent would seriously stink (and the life I live doesn't even come close to that...but on these days when Scott is gone from 7 am until 10:30 at night I say a prayer of gratitude for him and our marriage).
7. It isn't the end of the world when you misplace your camera. It just feels like it.
8. There will never ever ever be a day when your home is fully organized and clean. Ever.
9. Expect the unexpected: sometimes your child will surprise you (eight weeks early). Sometimes you will surprise yourself.
10. It's okay to decide to be D-O-N-E with nursing at six months when you've been hooked up to a machine like a dairy cow multiple times a day for multiple months because your baby didn't really get a chance to figure out the whole "nursing" thing before it was too late. Given the situation, six months is really good. Also, don't expect to be thanked for the task because chances are your daughter probably won't ever know what lengths you went to in order to give her the best possible chance at a healthy body. But it is nice to have a husband who supports and praises you even though he probably secretly thought for the last six months that you are 100% crazy. (I think he's a bit relieved that we both decided that should this situation arise again--meaning a baby who doesn't nurse--formula will be the. only. option.)
11. There is a certain magic about being the first person she sees when she wakes up in the morning. That First Smile is priceless.
12. You have to make the sounds when you read Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?
13. It's okay to stay in your pajamas past 10 am if you've been up in the middle of the night every night for the last week.
14. There is a certain beauty about being "that person"--the only one your baby wants to calm her down or cuddle her, the one with all the answers when those tending can't figure her out, the one that gets to be her main life source--not to mention a certain exhaustion.
15. Life. Is. Beautiful.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Important Tasks of the Day
Today is Thursday. I bet you thought I was going to miss my weekly post.
I almost did.
You see, I have been doing looooooots of important things today, such as:
1. Rearranging wall decor to put up some cute newborn pictures of my sweet babe (you know, now that she is almost six months old)...
2. Cuddling. Lots. Because some days baby girls just need to be held more than others.
3. Carting my husband to and from school, which includes watching all the college-class-goers and being slightly jealous and at the same time overly glad that I am not one of them this year.
4. Introducing my little darlin' to Cinderella. When I was little this was my all-time favorite movie. I probably watched it 400 times before I turned 3. Kevin LOVED it! So much so that she refused to go down for her nap until Cinderellly and her prince rode off together in their golden carriage. And then...she was out.
5. Reading. A book. Because that is what I do.
6. Managing some laundry and dishes somewhere in there (you know, enough so that the husband thinks I've been doing something productive all day).
7. And...this was the best of all...cheering on my Aggies in their season home opener! I was amazed that we had to wait in a line that went all the way back to the road just to get in the gate...gone are the days of begging my roomate(s) to go with me and sitting down in the middle of the student section at the 50 yard line and most likely leaving at halftime when it started to snow and even putting off homework was not worth the torture.
I have mended my ways.
(Also, I no longer have homework, but that is beside the point.)
Kevin loves football. She was a champ through the whole game. I think she will be fourth-generation sports woman in my family (of these four generations, I am probably the weak link. But maybe I am not as weak as my sister when it comes to watching football, so it is okay. For the record, she is a much better football player). Scott loves that when we go to Aggie football games he is usually surrounded by four or five other women and no men. Today it was eight (if you count the two baby girls), but at least he had our friend Dustin to keep him company.
My mom has this pet peeve about leaving games early. My whole life I have been taught that leaving before the official buzzer/whistle blew was a sinner greater than...well, I don't know what it was greater than, but it was pretty bad. Almost as bad as being a ByU fan. Remember earlier when I talked about leaving games early to go do homework? I usually snuck out and when my mother called me to repentance later (because there were so few students in the student section she could usually pick me out from their season ticket seats across the field). I had to confess and forsake my sin and sit through the whole miserable game the next time. Today, there were lots of people leaving early (the score was 34-3), and today's post is directed at them.
Sometimes, when you leave early, you miss the good stuff.
Those last three minutes of any sports game are magical. Cinderella stories come true, the most miraculous plays happen, and occasionally, you get to see a referee plowed to the ground near the end zone. And you cheer because really all the refs have deserved it all game and now he knows how the quarterback felt.
Sometimes in life we want to walk out before the game is over because it seems like nothing really important will happen--after all, we have the win, right?
But when you stick around, the good stuff happens.
Like finishing a mission, even though you think you'd rather get married. Or adding a second major, even though you are only four credits away from graduating. Or taking the time to sit and cuddle your baby for ten more minutes even though she is fast asleep and you have other, "more important" things to do. Because sometimes you whisper in her ear "I love you" and she giggles and smiles in her sleep.
Sometimes, these moments fly away and never come back.
Don't miss the good stuff.
I almost did.
You see, I have been doing looooooots of important things today, such as:
1. Rearranging wall decor to put up some cute newborn pictures of my sweet babe (you know, now that she is almost six months old)...
2. Cuddling. Lots. Because some days baby girls just need to be held more than others.
3. Carting my husband to and from school, which includes watching all the college-class-goers and being slightly jealous and at the same time overly glad that I am not one of them this year.
4. Introducing my little darlin' to Cinderella. When I was little this was my all-time favorite movie. I probably watched it 400 times before I turned 3. Kevin LOVED it! So much so that she refused to go down for her nap until Cinderellly and her prince rode off together in their golden carriage. And then...she was out.
5. Reading. A book. Because that is what I do.
6. Managing some laundry and dishes somewhere in there (you know, enough so that the husband thinks I've been doing something productive all day).
7. And...this was the best of all...cheering on my Aggies in their season home opener! I was amazed that we had to wait in a line that went all the way back to the road just to get in the gate...gone are the days of begging my roomate(s) to go with me and sitting down in the middle of the student section at the 50 yard line and most likely leaving at halftime when it started to snow and even putting off homework was not worth the torture.
I have mended my ways.
(Also, I no longer have homework, but that is beside the point.)
Kevin loves football. She was a champ through the whole game. I think she will be fourth-generation sports woman in my family (of these four generations, I am probably the weak link. But maybe I am not as weak as my sister when it comes to watching football, so it is okay. For the record, she is a much better football player). Scott loves that when we go to Aggie football games he is usually surrounded by four or five other women and no men. Today it was eight (if you count the two baby girls), but at least he had our friend Dustin to keep him company.
My mom has this pet peeve about leaving games early. My whole life I have been taught that leaving before the official buzzer/whistle blew was a sinner greater than...well, I don't know what it was greater than, but it was pretty bad. Almost as bad as being a ByU fan. Remember earlier when I talked about leaving games early to go do homework? I usually snuck out and when my mother called me to repentance later (because there were so few students in the student section she could usually pick me out from their season ticket seats across the field). I had to confess and forsake my sin and sit through the whole miserable game the next time. Today, there were lots of people leaving early (the score was 34-3), and today's post is directed at them.
Sometimes, when you leave early, you miss the good stuff.
Those last three minutes of any sports game are magical. Cinderella stories come true, the most miraculous plays happen, and occasionally, you get to see a referee plowed to the ground near the end zone. And you cheer because really all the refs have deserved it all game and now he knows how the quarterback felt.
Sometimes in life we want to walk out before the game is over because it seems like nothing really important will happen--after all, we have the win, right?
But when you stick around, the good stuff happens.
Like finishing a mission, even though you think you'd rather get married. Or adding a second major, even though you are only four credits away from graduating. Or taking the time to sit and cuddle your baby for ten more minutes even though she is fast asleep and you have other, "more important" things to do. Because sometimes you whisper in her ear "I love you" and she giggles and smiles in her sleep.
Sometimes, these moments fly away and never come back.
Don't miss the good stuff.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
The Best Kind of Girls
If there is one thing I have been blessed with in my adult life (aside from my beautiful little family), it is good friends. I was reminded of that this week as I encountered some unforseen turbulence in my life. It's amazing what a well-timed phone call can do for a friend in need.
I have four best friends (okay, five, when you count my husband. But for the purpose of this post, just know that I love him and I'm going to talk about my girls from here on out). We met on the day that the five of us moved into the freshman dorms at USU, two on one side of the hall, three on the other. What was an enquiry after a missing can-opener became the saving grace of our college years. We have been the best kind of friends ever since.
Maybe we're not the type of pedicure-getting, shopping-going, latest-fad sharing, chocolate-inhaling friends (although plenty of that goes on too), but to me, these girls are the best kind of friends. The best kind of friends are the ones that decide not to go to the dance because they know you don't have anyone to ask. They let you come spend the evening doing homework in their apartment because there is a sock on your dorm room door. They hold you in the back of a suburban on the way home from spring break when you decide to break up with your boyfriend of two years. They stop by to see you when you are slaving away at a fast food place all summer to pay for college when they know you are slightly dying inside. They are the kind that come to you, worried about a friend or family member, and ask you to fast and pray with them for this person just because they can't bear to do it on their own. They hold you when tragedy strikes your family more times in a year than anyone's family deserves and pray with you when you get a cryptic message from your mom telling you to call and you think the family dog may be dying but you're not sure and you just need some courage to hit the redial button. They listen to you go on and on about that boy you aren't sure you love, but you just might, but he hasn't said anything and he's leaving for France for two years and what do you do? They are understanding when a move needs to happen, or you decide that a trip to Georgia is necessary even when they know what (or who) you really need is right there in front of you. They write you on your mission to remind you that "you don't do failure." They celebrate with you when Prince Charming finally makes an appearance in your life, even when he's been especially slow to show up in theirs. They take walks around campus on a cold winter's day just to hear you talk things out so you can make sense of life. They gather together and show up when your baby has come eight weeks early and you've just found out that she may or may not have a serious illness that could change the course of your lives just to take you out for Chinese food and bring you some books to read during the stressful days of sitting next to an isolette in the NICU. They are the kind of friends that when you are wound up so tight you're driving your husband nuts he suggests you "call one of your girls and get out of the house."
They're the ones where you have an unwritten rule that despite geographic distance or how long it has been since you've last talked, you can call about anything and get a listening ear. Even at two a.m.
They are the kind that, when you've spent all morning on your knees praying for God to send you someone who understands, calls at ten a.m just because she feels like she needs to, even though she has a brand new baby who has his nights and days mixed up and a rambunctious two-year-old and surely enough concerns of her own.
And she's exactly the person you need to put you back together and give you a pep talk and let you know that once again, you can make it through this.
Thanks, my girls. Happy seventh anniversary.
I have four best friends (okay, five, when you count my husband. But for the purpose of this post, just know that I love him and I'm going to talk about my girls from here on out). We met on the day that the five of us moved into the freshman dorms at USU, two on one side of the hall, three on the other. What was an enquiry after a missing can-opener became the saving grace of our college years. We have been the best kind of friends ever since.
Maybe we're not the type of pedicure-getting, shopping-going, latest-fad sharing, chocolate-inhaling friends (although plenty of that goes on too), but to me, these girls are the best kind of friends. The best kind of friends are the ones that decide not to go to the dance because they know you don't have anyone to ask. They let you come spend the evening doing homework in their apartment because there is a sock on your dorm room door. They hold you in the back of a suburban on the way home from spring break when you decide to break up with your boyfriend of two years. They stop by to see you when you are slaving away at a fast food place all summer to pay for college when they know you are slightly dying inside. They are the kind that come to you, worried about a friend or family member, and ask you to fast and pray with them for this person just because they can't bear to do it on their own. They hold you when tragedy strikes your family more times in a year than anyone's family deserves and pray with you when you get a cryptic message from your mom telling you to call and you think the family dog may be dying but you're not sure and you just need some courage to hit the redial button. They listen to you go on and on about that boy you aren't sure you love, but you just might, but he hasn't said anything and he's leaving for France for two years and what do you do? They are understanding when a move needs to happen, or you decide that a trip to Georgia is necessary even when they know what (or who) you really need is right there in front of you. They write you on your mission to remind you that "you don't do failure." They celebrate with you when Prince Charming finally makes an appearance in your life, even when he's been especially slow to show up in theirs. They take walks around campus on a cold winter's day just to hear you talk things out so you can make sense of life. They gather together and show up when your baby has come eight weeks early and you've just found out that she may or may not have a serious illness that could change the course of your lives just to take you out for Chinese food and bring you some books to read during the stressful days of sitting next to an isolette in the NICU. They are the kind of friends that when you are wound up so tight you're driving your husband nuts he suggests you "call one of your girls and get out of the house."
They're the ones where you have an unwritten rule that despite geographic distance or how long it has been since you've last talked, you can call about anything and get a listening ear. Even at two a.m.
They are the kind that, when you've spent all morning on your knees praying for God to send you someone who understands, calls at ten a.m just because she feels like she needs to, even though she has a brand new baby who has his nights and days mixed up and a rambunctious two-year-old and surely enough concerns of her own.
And she's exactly the person you need to put you back together and give you a pep talk and let you know that once again, you can make it through this.
Thanks, my girls. Happy seventh anniversary.
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