Texts to my Mother

Motherhood is hard. Sometimes I am not very good at it. This summer has been R.O.U.G.H. I'm glad it is almost over, although I am sure fall comes with it's own challenges (my husband taking a double classload for his MBA being one of them).

Good thing that we are equipped with someone who has "been there" before, and dealt with us as whiny three-year-olds, and helps us realize that we turned out okay so our children will probably be fine too.

The following are a series of texts I have sent to my mother over the course of this summer. I share these for two purposes:
1. Your Enjoyment.
2. To Remember.

June 29
Me: Scott came home for lunch and I asked [Kevin] t tell him how many time outs she has had this morning. Her response? "I don't know...Three? Four? Nine? Seven, nine." (Correct answer: Two).

July 25
Me; "Want a threenager? I do not like her Sam I Am.
Mom: I am sorry...Do you want Papa to call her?
Me: No! He will take her side!

July 26
Me: For sale. Three year old. Comes with adorable dress, cute hairstyle, and a ton of attitude. No returns.
Me: Freshly bathed and potty trained.
Mom: Papa would like to take you up on it.
Me: He is more than welcome to her! She doesn't come with any toys though (she lost them all) and she is out of clean underwear.

July 28
Me: Does Papa still want to buy Kevin? We are running a special. Free shipping.

July 29
Mom: Did today go better?
Me: I only swore four times.
Mom: If that is an improvement then good for you.
Me: Yesterday I only cursed twice...
Me: But I also let my kids (swim in the backyard pool) today, so maybe that makes up for my sins?
Mom: Good job!

July 31
Me: On Daniel Tiger this morning: being silly= peanut butter and pickle sandwiches
Note: those are my mom's favorite kind of sandwich.
Me; Also, Kevin fell in the toilet yesterday.
Mom: I fell off the toilet when I was little, my mom said. I guess we will have to call Grandma's sandwich the silly sandwich.

Aug 11
Me: Do you know of any good boarding schools for three-year-olds?
Mom: (sends their home address) Papa headmaster.
Me: Perfect. I'll bring her by tomorrow and pick her up at Christmas.
Me: Make sure she knows her ABCs by then.
Mom: I will let him know!
Me: Seriously though.
Mom: Sorry it has been a rough day.
Later
Me: Both kids are having a screaming match and it's been going for 15 min. I'm hiding in the basement.
Mom: Maybe they will go hoarse
Me: One can only hope. Deafness would be an asset right now.


Maybe these texts don't cast me in the right light. Does that matter? I make an effort to be genuine and truthful on my blog. Truthfully, this summer has just about done me in. Mixing the overly emotional threenager with the busy madness of a baby-turned-toddler and a husband who is drowning in school and work, in addition to the fact that my health has been flaring up and my medications don't seem to be doing their job but the labs seem normal so no one at my doctor's office is too concerned...well, it makes for a depressed, exhausted, and snarky Rinda.

Motherhood is hard. I swear sometimes. I can't handle life some days. I take more naps than my preschooler. My brain was too tired last night and this morning to let me look over my husband's final paper for his economics class--the first time I haven't been able to edit because my brain literally could not think.

But, you know what? It's okay. I know I am doing what I am supposed to do.

A few days ago I was sitting in the Primary room at our church. Primary is the children's organization for kids age 3-12, and I serve in the presidency. Every week I get to sit with 70+ children as they sing and learn about Jesus. It truly is a privilege. Some weeks are tough, however, and we just pray something is getting through as they do gymnastics routines on their chairs, ask to go to the bathroom a million times, and call us out on every mistake we make. I watch the teachers of the individual classes and see their energy levels drop and the color drain out of their faces as the hour goes on. I was watching this on Sunday and I was overwhelmed, once again, of the feeling of charity I felt for these little ones. I knew it wasn't my love I was feeling, it was God and Christ's love for these children. I knew that their parents and teachers didn't always see the good they were doing, but that day, I could see it. I could see the improvement in behavior, the growth in their testimonies, the outward actions that showed me that something was getting through.

And suddenly, the Spirit whispered to me the reason that I'd been asked to serve in the Primary. It wasn't because my talents were needed (although they have come in handy) and I had a willingness to serve wherever I was needed. Rather, Primary has started to serve as a type and symbol of my daily life with my little ones. The teachers in those classrooms are doing the same thing that I do with my children every single day: teaching them the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Most days it doesn't seem like anything is getting through, and we spend more time coloring and taking bathroom breaks than the actual learning. But I think Heavenly Father wanted me to know that if learning is happening in Primary (and I know it is), then it is happening in my own home, and I'm doing a better job than I think I am.

After all, there are swear words in the Bible too.

Research

Let me tell you about a little moment I had with my children this morning. We were playing in Sly's room--and by playing I mean that I was sitting in the glider looking at my phone while the two little ones went to down pulling out every single toy in the vicinity, all to the musical symphony of my husband installing a ceiling fan in the room next door.

After a few minutes, I looked up from my phone to find that Kevin had claimed her throne (aka sat in the little chair that was once hers but now has been adopted by her little brother) and was "reading" one of Sly's books.

"Baby duck says 'quack,' baby puppy says 'ruff!'," she chanted as I smiled to myself, relieved that she still knew her animal noises (you know, in case they quiz you on that sort of thing when you start preschool). Soon she came to a picture of a baby giraffe.

"Momma? What sound does a giraffe make?" she asked.

My first thought was hold on a sec while I ask Siri...just kidding, I don't have an iphone. 

"I'm not sure, honey," I answered her. "Maybe they make a 'nom nom nom' sound when they eat the leaves."

"Giraffes eat leaves?" She reiterated, as if the idea was blowing her mind and she hadn't, in fact, seen a giraffe eat leaves on at least half a dozen visits to the zoo when she was two.

"Yes," I said. "That's why their necks are so long, so they can eat the leaves at the tops of the trees."

She nodded, gave me a skeptical look, and then went back to her book. A moment later she got up and walked out of the room, somewhat agitated. When she came back, she was holding a board book about jungle animals and their daddies. The first pages just happened to feature a giraffe and its father, go figure, eating leaves.

"You're right mom! They do eat leaves!" She said with a little laugh, amazed that I was correct.

And thus it began.
My daughter is no longer "taking my word for it."
She's doing her own research.

And just maybe, this experience has taught me not to roll my eyes every time she asks the question, "Why? But why? Why? Why, Momma?"

Why, indeed.
She's starting to figure out that I don't know all the answers.

Why do you have to grow up so fast, little one?

Yes, but why?