Lessons from Lutitia

This is my fourth great-grandmother, Lutitia Shearer Warthen.

A year ago, I had never heard of her. I'm so glad that has changed. This little woman's big spirit has been with me over the past few weeks as my family enters new territory and, starting at 5:30pm today, a new era. She's taken me on a journey, one that I don't fully understand yet, but here are some of the things I've learned from her.


Lesson #1: Teething Babies Ruin Everything (better said, Patience is a Virtue and it's okay to take your time to make a choice if you stand by it in the end).
Like me, Lutitia is an oldest daughter. Unlike me, she played a major part in keeping her family afloat. With 11 younger brothers and sister, she was invaluable and was often asked to do things that she probably didn't want to do. She spent her early mornings doing chores and then walked six miles to gain an education the world told her she probably didn't need. Her father was a schoolteacher, so she was blessed with parents that valued knowledge. It is little surprise that when her parents encountered a "strange Mormon religion" in the early 1830s, they listened to the missionaries and went to hear the Prophet Joseph Smith speak so they could find out for themselves the truth of the things they had been taught.

Oh how Lutitia must have looked forward to that meeting! Oh how her heart must have yearned to be fully present, to listen and pray and learn. When they got to the meeting, however, Lutitia's baby brother was cutting teeth and it fell to her to walk with him at the edge of the crowd. I picture this young girl, arms full of crying toddler, shushing and soothing, straining to see and hear and knowing that it was probably useless to even try. Lutitia's parents were baptized in November 1830. Though she was eight years old at the time and could have been baptized with them, Lutitia wasn't baptized for eight more years.

Lesson #2: Life Gets More Challenging (especially after making an important decision).
Her life was certainly not an easy one, especially after she was baptized. The mobs and persecutions the early Saints endured began to grow during this time. Lutitia told her children and grandchild about sleeping with clothes and shoes on, watching her father be taken prisoner, stashing away food and clothing for emergencies and then disguising herself to go retrieve the stashes from the hiding places in the cornfield in the darkness.


Lesson #3: It Might Take a While, But Eventually You'll Get Where You Are Going.
Within five years of her baptism, Lutitia was married and a young mother, living in Nauvoo. Everytime she probably thought that things couldn't get harder, they did. The Prophet died. The Saints were run out of their homes. Lutitia and her husband, Joseph Warthen, lived for four years in a run-down camp at Council Bluffs, working to be able to make their way to Salt Lake with their small family. By the time they reached the Salt Lake Valley in 1850, they had four young children under the age of seven.

I can barely herd my three children from the family room to the garage...I can't imagine dragging them across 1000 miles of prairie!

Lesson #4: Be Careful What You Pray For (and be ready to accept God's answer to your prayers).
You would think things got easier once they had settled in Utah, but they did not. Lutitia's parents had strayed from their faith and her husband's testimony began to falter. How she must have struggled, alone and steadfast in her convictions, watching those she loved walk away from the things that mattered most to her.  Her husband wouldn't agree to be sealed to her or their children. She'd come all this way for what? A cabin in an untamed valley?

At one point, Joseph started talking about moving to California, where there would be more monetary opportunities for their family and especially for their teenage son, Albert. Lutitia knew that this would mean a break with the Saints for her and her children, and she desperately did not want to leave.

I am amazed that Lutitia's reaction was not bitterness or faltering in her faith. Instead, she sought to strengthen her relationship with the Lord. She loved her husband, who was a kind and generous man. So she prayed. She asked God to save her husband and help her family.

And then her husband was shot while he was lying next to her in bed. The hired man was to afraid to go for the doctor, so Lutitia went herself. Her husband lived three days and died, leaving her a widow with five young children.

Lesson #5: It Never Gets Easier, You Just Get Stronger.
Because she was a wealthy widow with a family in need of protection, she was quickly remarried into a polygamous marriage with a man who was poor and already struggling to take care of the family he had. She shared her abundance with her new family. Within two years, her husband left on a mission, leaving her pregnant with six children and responsible to take care of his first wife and their children. The grasshoppers came. She spent her days fighting bugs off the wheat and sold everything she had to feed her family.  She spent the night before he daughter was born watering the crops because she had no help and she knew it was up to her. She worked day and night and by the time her husband returned, she bore him a third child and then collapsed from a physical and nervous breakdown. Her husband abandoned her, but God did not. She recovered, divorced her husband, raised her family, and never faltered in her faith. She spent her days in the Temple, doing the work for her extended family. She knew that God had answered her prayers and provided a way for her family to be taken care of, both temporally and eternally.

Lesson #6: I am a Wimp.
My life is nowhere near as difficult as Lutitia's was, and I am nowhere near as strong or even faithful. My parents and husband are the most faithful people I've ever met. I have never had to worry about being run out of my home by mobs or not being able to feed my family because of grasshoppers. My needs have always always been provided for--without the work that Lutitia was required to do in order for her needs to be met.

So as I've been indulging in thirty seconds of pity party here and there over the past week since my husband came home literally glowing from a meeting with his mentor, it is little wonder to me that the Holy Ghost brought Lutitia to my remembrance. Learn from her, the Spirit whispered, and so I have tried to.

I have learned that teething is tough on everyone and that it usually means you will have to miss out on something you wanted to be part of, but it is a blessing to be able to comfort a little loved one when he or she is in pain. I might have to miss out on things I desperately want to be part of, but that doesn't mean that blessings are taken away from me. I am given the gift of choosing my path, and as my husband and I face a new direction with our family, I am able to be a rather large part of that decision. It might take a while, but that's okay. Eventually I will understand.

When Scott first embraced this new path, I wholeheartedly supported him, and that has not changed at all. In the eight months since embracing this new opportunity, life has gotten a bit more challenging and the future a bit more cloudy. There are no easy answers, but there is comfort in trusting where God leads us. And He WILL lead us. I have no doubt that somewhere in the future we will end up where He needs us to be, and although the thought of doing what is required to get there seems as impossible as guiding preschoolers across the Great Plains, I know that the path will be made clear and we will get there, together.

Several years ago, I prayed for my husband to have a calling that would keep him busy and growing in the gospel. That prayer has undoubtedly been answered. When I prayed for this blessing for him, I did not consider all of the Sundays I would be flying solo getting our family ready for church or evenings I would spend putting our children to bed by myself.

When his work started to become frustrating and I began praying for him to feel valued and fulfilled in his career, I didn't know that God would want him to start a new career altogether. We were both blown away at how Scott's opportunity to teach at a university came so quickly and so (nearly!) effortlessly. I did not anticipate how excited he would become while planning out his course, or how this would give him that something he needed in order to hang on at his current job and see things through. I didn't know that God would ask more of him when it comes to church meetings and that I would be giving him up for yet another weeknight, and that would mean that I would be required to give up things I love (cough*bookclub*cough) so that our tired children could make it to bed at an appropriate hour. I didn't know that those additional meetings would guide him in his search for a direction for our future and provide answers to the questions we didn't realize he should be asking.

And when he came home from that meeting with the program director, he started throwing out words I never thought I'd hear him say, my mind protested but my heart opened my eyes and I could see our future, and deep down, I am okay with it.

And as I read through Lutitia's story, the same one I typed up for my family last spring, I realize that I will probably never fully understand God's ways, but that they are always right and He will always prepare us if we let Him. And, no matter what, I believe that God keeps his promises. He has always provided me with what I need, even when that need takes the form of a napping baby and PAW Patrol distracting my son so that I can write and learn and learn and write.

As I reread this quote from her biography this morning, the Spirit confirmed to me that this is the lesson I am meant to learn from Grandma Lutitia.

"If we could understand the great trials our fathers and mothers were called to pass through, it would help us to appreciate the wonderful opportunities we have at present. It is through their strength and bravery under the hand of God that we are surrounded by the comforts of this life."

One Thousand Hours

Last week I overheard my aunt tell my mom that she had been quoted in my aunt's congregation's church service. My mom created a program for parents of preschool age children to help them prepare their children for kindergarten (Time Together...check it out). After three decades of teaching preschool and kindergarten, my mom is pretty much the best in the biz.

"She said--over the pulpit!--that you said that it takes a thousand books to prepare your child for Kindergarten," my aunt related.

At this point, my eyes widened a little bit. I mean, I read to my children daily--as often as I remember or they bring me books, but even then, I doubt we are close to a thousand books. Unless you count the number of times I've read Pinkalicious or Dr. Suess's ABC Book or The Little Blue Truck.

My mom reacted with a lopsided, half-smile, "Well, that's close to what I said. It takes a thousand hours of lap time to prepare your children for kindergarten, but a thousand books is good too, I guess."

This comment ate away at me for the rest of the evening and the whole next morning. Somewhere in there, I convinced myself that she had said ten thousand hours and I realized that something about the math was off there.

Is that even possible? I wondered as I opened the day counter app on my phone. Doing some rough (and I mean rough) math in my head, I realized that my daughter will be somewhere around 2,000 days old when she enters kindergarten.  Even I could do that math...10,000 hours in 2,000 days...FIVE HOURS A DAY?!

We are so behind! I panicked. Then I realized that since it was a government holiday, my mom was actually home and not in the middle of teaching five-year-olds geometry, so I called her.

"That quote from sacrament meeting yesterday?" I rattled quickly, knowing I was interrupting my parents' When Calls the Heart marathon, "was that ten thousand hours or one thousand hours? Because I think we're a little behind."

At this point, she just laughed at me. "One thousand hours."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, but still..." I did some quick math in my head. "That's more like half an hour a day instead of twenty minutes, and we've got an extra six months before she starts kindergarten."

She confirmed that this was true. She laughed a little as she told me that she tells parents that as soon as they bring the baby home from the hospital they need to pull out the books.

"How does that work when your child's attention span is barely thirty seconds?" I asked. "Does it count if they are playing in the same room and you read out loud to them?"

She pointed out that my daughter will sit through a book now, and I clarified that my son, on the other hand, will not, and my daughter only started listening to books in their entirety within the last year.

I am failing my children. I'm staying home to avoid this kind of situation, and I'm still failing my children.

I think this was the point when my mother mournfully put Hope Valley on hold and switched her voice into "pep talk mode."

"You're doing better than you think you are," she told me. I only half believed her, because she's my mother, so she has to say that. Even as I ended the call, half an hour later, I felt unsettled and gathered my children on the couch and read them four Llama Llama books in one sitting. (Well, one sitting for me. The boy was up and down at least a dozen times, and the girl took a few breaks to rescue her toys from her brother).

"Mom?" she said after we finished the last book and I reached for another one. "I done."

And she was gone. And I gave up.

Then, today, when she told me the same thing about quiet time and I made her wait ten more minutes so I could finish the season 3 premiere of When Calls the Heart, she asked me if we could play a game. Not up for another frustrating round of Candy Land where she breaks all the rules and I land on the peanut every other turn, I suggested we pull out the Time Together kit that my mom let us borrow.

Before this afternoon, all I knew about the kit was that it came in an orange bag, contained a white board, and somehow magically would help me prepare my daughter to read, write, listen, and do math.

I was surprised, then, when I pulled out item after item of activities we had already done, some that we do daily. Nothing the kit contained was new to my daughter. I thought we'd barely be able to do one activity before her brother woke up; instead, we breezed through them and I had to stop her from doing everything in one day.

Maybe I am doing better than I think I am. I finally started to believe it. After three weeks of noticing all the ways my daughter seemed to be behind her peers--and all of my frustrations because there seemed to be so little I could do to help her that I wasn't already doing--I finally felt a renewal of hope as I leafed through the parent papers in the kit and landed on "Age Appropriate Skills & Activities for 3-4 yr. old Children."

• "A three minute attention span and minimal understanding of yesterday and tomorrow." She has those down, I thought. Check.
• "Can hop on one foot and walk in a line." It's not pretty, but she can do that. Check.
• "Can follow simple directions and accept suggestions." After some negotiating, yes, she does that. Check.

The list continued: "Can put on shoes.... Understands some dangers.... Identifies common colors.... Still doesn't cooperate or share well.... Can sort of dress,,,. May prefer one parent (often the opposite sex). Knows whether a boy or a girl."

Yes, she can put on her own boots. Not always on the right feet, but she does it by herself. She understands dangers enough to warn me when her brother is getting into trouble. She knows all of her colors and makes a big deal of matching, creating "patterens" and making sure she gives us our favorite color of plastic IKEA plate when she sets the table.  She definitely lives life on her own terms, and she knows the word "cooperate" because she's heard me ask her to do so several times a day. Just yesterday she explained to her father that she had "lost the pwvilege" of going on a walk because she misbehaved at church. "Can sort of dress" is a good explanation of her Fancy Nancy clothing styles and ability to somewhat pull her pants up after using the bathroom. Oh, that's right, I forgot--they're leggings not pants. Definitely prefers her father (who knew being a Daddy's girl was a developmental milestone?). Knows the difference between her and her brother; we've had the "that's his peanut" conversation more than once.

So, yeah, I guess we are doing better than I think we are. 

And those thousand hours of time together? I'm learning that they come in small, 2-3 minute increments, like when my son pinches his fingers in the door and comes and sits on my lap for a cuddle before going about his daily, havoc-wreaking business. Or when my daughter asks me to play pretend and informs me that she's the mom and "I's the girl" and she helps me dish up my purple sghetti and cuts up my food for me before tucking me into bed on the couch with a "couple a books." Or how when we read Pinkalicious she fills in the words whenever I pause. Or how my son will run to me, carrying Llama Llama Time to Share and starts yelling "Llama Ama Mama!" Or how my daughter points out to me that yesterday the mountains were blue and today they are white and how come? Or how, when you ask my son what Mr. Brown says, he yells at the top of his voice, "MOOOO!"

1,000 hours. 60,000 minutes. 360,0000 seconds = the amount of time I spend being my child's first exposure to learning. 

It's so much less time than I thought I had, and yet we are doing so much more with it than I ever thought we could.

"Children’s first and most influential teachers are their parents/family. They play an important foundational role in the child’s learning and achievement. When parents, educators, and caregivers work together in the education and well-being of a child, a partnership is formed that will influence the best possible learning outcomes for the learner."(Utah's Early Childhood Standards, p. 4).

 --Taken from the Time Together website

Kindred Spirits

I once read that books are the life-blood of a room, the soul of a home. There are books in every single room of my house. My husband will tell you there are too many; I will forever claim that there aren’t enough.

Most of my books are tucked away in the guest bedroom in our basement. Sometimes, when I am stressed or sad, I will go to this room and run my fingers along the spines of my treasured tomes, and suddenly I am not alone.

A week or so ago, an author friend of mine posed a question on facebook that gave me warm fuzzies: “Who were your best friends from the books you read growing up?”

I felt like I needed to run down the stairs to my bookcases so I didn’t forget anybody. The names came to me quickly: Ella of Frell. Molly McIntire. Ramona. And Beezus. Mostly Beezus, because I was Beezus. Laura Ingalls Wilder. Jo March. Anne Shirley. Naya Nuki. Fern Arable. California Lucy Whipple. Anne Frank. Caddie Woodlawn. Wendy Darling. Amelia Bedelia. Christy Huddleston. Wanda Petronski. Stargirl. Hermione Granger. Susan and Lucy Pevense. Nancy Drew. Matilda. Elizabeth, the Paper Bag Princess. Madeline, who lived in a house all covered in vines. Sarah, plain and tall. Jessie and Violet, who lived in a Boxcar. Molly, who was a pilgrim. And so, so many others.

These are the girls and women who shaped my childhood and adolescence. Although I have always been blessed with good friends, I was never one who could be deemed “popular.” Most of the time, my living-and-breathing best friends have earned that title with me because they also have a love of books.

You could call them kindred spirits.

There is a shelf, down in my guest room, which holds these friends of mine, stuffed close together and covered in dust. Occasionally, I still need one or two of them, and they are always there when I need them, for a paragraph or a page or simply to stick in my purse so I’m not alone when I’m out and about. My needs are not as frequent as they were, and most of the time I focus on making new friends.

But I have a daughter. And although her dearest friends right now are Cinderella and Pinkalicious and Fancy Nancy Clancy, I know someday she will need to meet Ramona, and Laura, and Fern. She will learn that everyone has bad days and good ideas, that sometimes she will have to do hard things, and sometimes she might be the only person who could save Some Pig. She will teach school in Cutter Gap and write stories in the Annex and deal with her own Ms. Trunchbulls. She might turn down stuck-up princes and she might stand up for her own Prince Char. She will pass through the Wardrobe, fly to Neverland, and ride the Hogwarts Express.

Parents don’t usually get to choose friends for their children, but if ever my daughter finds herself alone in the world, I find peace in knowing that somewhere in my basement, I have a shelf of adventures, escapes, and friends waiting for her. 

2016 Reading Challenge

I wasn't going to do a reading challenge this year, but out of curiosity I looked into the challenge for this year and decided that it looked much more manageable than 2015's (only 41 instead of 53!), so here I am, picking it up again!

For the printable list to complete your own 2016 challenge, go here.

• A book based on a fairy tale: Princess of the (Midnight Ball, Glass, Silver Woods) by Jessica Day George (***)
• A National Book Award winner: 
• A YA Bestseller The Fault In Our Stars by John Green (*** PG-13)
• A book you haven't read since high school  college: Eve's Daughters by Lynn Austin (**** PG-13)
• A book set in your home state: Christmas Jars by Jason Wright (** PG) --okay, so this might be a stretch, but the author seems local and no official setting is given, sooo..?
• A book translated into English: Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay (*** PG-14)
• A romance set in the future The Birthmarked Trilogy by Caragh M. O'Brien (**** PG-13)
• A book set in Europe  The Painter's Daughter by Julie Klassen (** PG-13)
• A book that's under 150 pages Ellen Tebbits by Beverly Cleary (**** G)
• A New York Times Bestseller The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh (**** PG-13)
• A book that's becoming a movie this year: Me Before You by JoJo Moyes (** PG-13)
• A book recommended by someone you just met A Night Divided by Jennifer A Nielsen (***** PG)
• A self-improvement book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp (** PG)
• A book you can finish in a day Mr. Lemoncello's Library Olympics by Chris Grabenstein (**** G)
• A book written by a celebrity (or someone you know?): Immortal Writers by Jill Bowers (**** PG-13)
• A political memoir The Boys In the Boat by Daniel Brown (***** PG)
• A book at least 100 years older than you (or one set more than 1000 years ago?): The Legendary Inge by Kate Stradling (***** PG)
• A book that's more than 600 pages Romance Collection by Melanie Dickerson (*** PG) 
• A book from Oprah's Book Club
• A science-fiction novel The Vault of Dreamers by Caragh O'Brien (*** PG)
• A book recommended by a family member Fireweed by Terry Montague (***** PG)
• A graphic novel (well, this one had pictures, sooo) Library of Soulds by Ransom Riggs (**** PG)
• A book that is published in 2016 The Summer Before the War by Helen Simonson (***** PG-13 sort of)
• A book with a protagonist with your same occupation The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (***** PG-13)
• A book that takes place during Summer: Summer of Sundays (** G)
• A book and its prequel Until The Dawn by Elizabeth Camden (**** PG)
• A murder mystery The Daring Ladies of Lowell by Kate Alcott (**** PG-13)
• A book written by a comedian
• A dystopian novel The Crown by Kiera Cass (*** PG)
• A book with a blue cover Keeping the Castle by Patrice Kindl (** G)
• A book of poetry
• The first book you see in a bookstore A Heart Revealed by Josi S. Kilpack (** G)
• A classic from the 20th Century Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns (****PG)
• A book from the library The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield (*****PG-13 for sheer wierdness)
• An autobiography Etched in Sand by Regina Calcuttera (**** PG-13)
• A book about a road trip The Apothecary by Maile Meloy (*** PG)
• A book about a culture you're unfamiliar with: When Crickets Cry by Charles Martin (***** PG-13)
• A satirical book
• A book that takes place on an island The Princess Academy: Forgotten Sisters by Shannon Hale (*** PG)
• A book that's guaranteed to bring you joy Salt to the Sea by Ruta Septys (***** PG-13) note: this is not a happy book, but the way it is written brings me joy. I love Ruta Septys' work. 

And, in keeping with last year's tradition, here are my recommendations based on books I've already read:

• A book based on a fairy tale: Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow by Jessica Day George
• A National Book Award winner Ramona and Her Mother by Beverly Cleary
• A YA Bestseller The Book Thief
• A book you haven't read since high school To Kill a Mockingbird
• A book set in your home state The Guardian by Dean Hughes
• A book translated into English The Little Prince
• A romance set in the future Red Queen
• A book set in Europe The Forgotten Garden
• A book that's under 150 pages The Hundred Dresses
• A New York Times Bestseller All the Light We Cannot See
• A book that's becoming a movie this year The BFG
• A book recommended by someone you just met...
• A self-improvement book How Will You Measure Your Life?
• A book you can finish in a day Hattie Ever After
• A book written by a celebrity 
• A political memoir Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography
• A book at least 100 years older than you Little Women
• A book that's more than 600 pages 
• A book from Oprah's Book Club Ellen Foster
• A science-fiction novel Ender's Game
• A book recommended by a family member Enchantment by Orson Scott Card
• A graphic novel: 
• A book that is published in 2016
• A book with a protagonist with your same occupation
• A book that takes place during Summer: A Song for Summer
• A book and its prequel The Mysterious Benedict Society
• A murder mystery Killing Mr. Griffin by Lois Duncan
• A book written by a comedian Dad is Fat 
• A dystopian novel The Birthmarked Trilogy
• A book with a blue cover The Princess Academy
• A book of poetry: Where the Sidewalk Ends
• The first book you see in a bookstore (yay! A trip to Seagull book!)
• A classic from the 20th Century Anne of Green Gables
• A book from the library Anything By Sarah Addison Allen
• An autobiography Alicia, My Story
• A book about a road trip  Hope Was Here
• A book about a culture you're unfamiliar with  The Rent Collector
• A satirical book
• A book that takes place on an island The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
• A book that's guaranteed to bring you joy The Book of Mormon

Someday I will finish filling out this recommendations list--clearly I have some reading to do!

Becoming Mrs. Claus

I put up our second Christmas tree yesterday.  It has taken me a week, but all of our indoor decorations are up and we are finally fully Christmas functional. Late last night, as we were playing Yahtzee by the light of the giant tree that takes up a third of our living room, my husband turned to me and asked, "Do you like having a second tree?" I just smiled guiltily and nodded. and he smiled too, and I know we were both thinking the same thing.

I have become my mother.

Last year I wrote a post about my dad being Santa Claus. Nothing about that has changed. This year, however, I am realizing just how vital Mrs. Claus is in all this holiday hullabaloo. 

I have been working on Christmas ever since the day after Sly's birthday in August. With Scott being super busy at work and overloaded with his last semester of his MBA, and trying to keep my depths of depression at bay, I needed something to focus on, and what is cheerier than Christmas? Nothing, so Christmas is the happy place I went to when the weather was still sporting 80 degree temperatures.  

And, even with all that prep, we hit December 1st and my advent calendar and Jesus Tree still weren't up, but that's okay. My kids can't read a calendar and Kevin was more than happy to put two Jesus Tree ornaments up last night. 

After Sly went to sleep, I cuddled Kevin on the couch and I read "The Polar Express" to her. She is finally at an age and attention span that allows me to read longer books to her. As I read, it wasn't my voice I heard telling the tale of the bell still rings for those who believe. 

It was my mother's.

I heard the inflections in her voice. The parts she would emphasize, the things she would point out in the pictures. I could smell the candle my Dad always burned at Christmastime layered with the organic scent of my Grandpa's homegrown Christmas tree. I could hear the Anne Murray and Yanni CDs playing softly in the background. I could feel, more than see, the primary-colored lights on our family tree. 

I remember one Christmas in particular when my mom took the time to read to us each evening. By that point in time, we were older school children and we'd either embraced the deliciousness of reading on our own (me) or tried to ditch books altogether (my siblings). Looking back, I think it must have been one of those times when my mom was at the end of her rope and grasping at straws as to how to keep us occupied and her calm and keep the home feeling like Christmas even when the blizzards were inside and not outside. 

Granted, we weren't super excited when she gathered us in the family room and told us she was going to read a Christmas book to us each night. But, in true Mrs. Claus style, she found a most magical story that appealed to all of our ages and within a few days, we were begging her to read more about Gladys and Shazaaamm! Unto you a child is born! and Imogene and the rest of the Herdmans. We were actually sad when the book was over.  

Perhaps you've seen that saying floating around on facebook: "There is no app to replace your lap." 

In this season of mile-long to do lists, too much sugar, and closets full of hidden presents, I challenge you to add one more thing to your plate. Read to your children. It doesn't matter if they are two weeks old, two-years-old, twelve or twenty. Being read to by a parent is something that sticks with children so much longer than Tickle Me Elmo or the newest iPhone. 

It is a gift that lasts for generations, because someday, your daughter might be reading to her children and it will be your voice proclaiming, "Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more."

Here are some of my favorite books for reading out loud:

For little ones:

• Llama Llama Holiday Drama by Anna Dewdney
• Babylit version of A Christmas Carol by Jennifer Adams
• Sing to Baby Jesus by Rachelle Pace Castor
• Five Christmas Penguins by Steven Lenton

For younger children:

• How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Suess
• The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg
• The Tale of the Three Trees by Angela Hunt
• The Legend of the Candy Cane by Lori Walburg
• My Treasury of Christmas Carols & Stories
• The Nutcracker (any version)

For elementary-age children:

• Christmas in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder
• The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson
• Any of the American Girl "book three" books, for example "Molly's Surprise"
• Chapter Six of "Ramona and Her Father" by Beverly Cleary

For pre-teens and teenagers:

• A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
• The Little Red Buckets by Lynda M. Nelson
• Two From Galilee by Marjorie Holmes
• The Christmas Box by Richard Paul Evans (this is actually a triology, and I especially enjoyed The Timepiece)
• Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Reading Challenge 2015 Complete!

How am I doing? Take a look!

• A book with more than 500 pages: The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton (**** PG-13)
• A classic romance: Emma by Jane Austen (**** PG)
• A book that became a movie: The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (*** PG-13)
• A book published this year: Dearest by Alethea Kontis (*** PG-13)
• A book with a number in the title: Counting by 7s (***** PG)
• A book written by someone under 30: Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard (**** PG)
• A book with nonhuman characters: Hero by Alethea Kontis (**** PG-13)
• A funny book: Dad is Fat by Jim Gaffigan (*** PG)
• A book by a female author: The Fairest Beauty by Melanie Dickerson (** PG)
• A mystery or thriller: The Secret of Pembrooke Park by Julie Klassen (**** PG)
• A book with a one-word title: Fablehaven by Brandon Mull (** PG)
• A book of short stories: Echoes of Memory, Vol 1 compiled by the National Holocaust Museum (**** PG)
• A book set in a different country: Milkweed by Jerri Spinelli (** PG)
• A nonfiction book: Surviving Hitler: The Unlikely True Story of an SS Soldier and a Jewish Woman (*** PG)
• A popular author's first book: The Heiress of Winterwood by Sarah E. Ladd (*** PG)
• A book from an author you love but haven't read yet:  Lost Lake by Sarah Addison Allen (****, PG-13)
• A book a friend recommended: The Winter Witch by Paula Brackston (*** PG-13)
• A Pulitzer-Prize winning book: All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr (***** PG-13)
• A book based on a true story: The Rent Collector by Cameron Wright (***** PG-13)
• A book at the bottom of your to-read list: Midnight in Austenland by Shannon Hale (*** PG-13)
• A book your mom recommended: The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey (**** PG-13)
• A book that scares you: Between Shades of Gray (***** PG-13)
• A book more than 100 years old: Laddie * (*** G)
• A book based entirely on its cover: Into the Whirlwind by Elizabeth Camden (**** PG)
• A book you were supposed to read in school but didn't: Little Women (***** PG)
• A memoir: Recollections of a Handcart Pioneer of 1860 by Mary Ann Hafen (*** G)
• A book you can finish in a day: The Kissing Tree by Prudence Bice (*** PG)
• A book with antonyms in the title: A Light in the Darkness by Lynn Austin (**** PG)
• A book set somewhere you've always wanted to visit: A Lady at Willowgrove Hall by Sarah E. Ladd (*** PG)
• A book that came out the year you were born: Ellen Foster (** PG)
• A book with bad reviews: (or at least I give this book bad reviews) Summer Campaign by Carla Kelly (** PG)
• A trilogy: The Ascendance Trilogy by Jennifer A. Nielson (**** PG)
• A book from your childhood: Your Favorite Seuss (a compilation of 13 stories by Dr. Seuss) (***** G)
• A book with a love triangle: Lady Maybe by Julie Klassen (* PG 13)
• A book set in the future: The Heir by Kiera Cass (*** PG-13)
• A book set in high school:  First Frost by Sarah Addison Allen (*** PG-13)
• A book with a color in the title:  Heart of Gold by Jeanette Miller (** PG)
• A book that made you cry: The Light Between Oceans (***** PG)
• A book with magic: Wisdom's Kiss by Catherine G. Marshall (*** PG)
• A graphic novel: Around the World by Matt Phelan (*** G)
• A book by an author you've never read before: Escape from Mr. Lemoncello's Library (***** G)
• A book you own but have never read: Gifts and Consquences by Daniel Coleman (**** PG)
• A book that takes place in your hometown (or in my case, homestate): Dangerous by Shannon Hale (*** PG-13)
• A book that was originally written in a different language: The Little Prince (**** G)
• A book set during Christmas: Call Me Mrs. Miracle by Debbie Macomber
• A book written by an author with your same initials: The List by Martin Fletcher (no stars R--I only made it three chapters into this one before I had to put it down. But...since this is the only author I have been able to find with my same initials, I am counting it)
• A play: The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robison (***** G)
• A banned book: The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver (*** PG-13)
• A book based on or turned into a TV show: When Calls the Heart by Jeanette Oak (** G)
• A book you started but never finished: Daughters In My Kingdom (**** G)

Done and done! I will admit that four of these I didn't finish the whole book, but I nearly did, so I am counting them anyway. I loved doing a challenge this year, even though I quickly ran out of time. It kept me reading and pushed me to find books that I wouldn't have ordinarily picked up.

Happy New Year! Onto 2016!

Reading Challenge 2015

Since Scott's classes are on Thursday nights this semester, I am predicting that most of my blog posts happen on Wednesday or Friday...don't judge and just be happy that I'm posting.

I found this Reading Challenge on pinterest a few months ago, and I am so excited to use it to guide my reading for 2015! That means I need to work in a little more reading time into my day, so if you have any suggestions on how to do that with two over-active little ones, please share!

I often get requests for reading suggestions, so I thought that a good way to start off this year's "Rinda's Reads" posts would be to list books that would fit with this reading challenge from ones that I've already read. The ones in italics are ones that I haven't read but I plan on reading this year, the ones in bold are books that I've read. My goal is to read new books to fulfill the challenge, but perhaps you are looking for suggestions on where to start with your reading this year. Well, here you go!

2015 Reading Challenge: Suggestions

• A book with more than 500 pages: Pick a Harry Potter, any Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling
• A classic romance: Persuasion by Jane Austen
• A book that became a movie: The Book Thief by Markus Zusack
• A book published this year: The Heir by Kiera Cass (if you haven't read the rest of her "Selection" series, I really enjoyed them! This newest installment is coming in May)
• A book with a number in the title: Counting by 7s by Holly Goldberg Sloan
• A book written by someone under 30: The Diary of Anne Frank
• A book with nonhuman characters: The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
• A funny book: The Honest Toddler's Guide To Parenting by Bunmi Landitan
• A book by a female author: The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery (every woman should read this book)
• A mystery or thriller: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley
• A book with a one-word title: Christy by Catherine Marshall
• A book of short stories: Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson
• A book set in a different country: Mr. Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson
• A nonfiction book: Here is Where by Andrew Carroll
• A popular author's first book: Edenbrooke by Julianne Donaldson (perhaps this author is popular only in Utah; nevertheless, I love this book!)
• A book from an author you love but haven't read yet: ANYTHING by Lynn Austen (if you haven't read her yet, you should!)
• A book a friend recommended: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
• A Pulitzer-Prize winning book: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
• A book based on a true story: Twenty and Ten by Claire Hutch Bishop
• A book at the bottom of your to-read list: (this isn't at the bottom of my list, but it is one I love and couldn't fit anywhere else on the list) The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Stewart
• A book your mom loves: Love is Eternal by Irving Stone
• A book that scares you: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs
• A book more than 100 years old: Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman (technically this book turns 100 this year, but I love it so much I just had to put it on the list)
• A book based entirely on its cover: A Song for Summer by Eva Ibbotson
• A book you were supposed to read in school but didn't: Warrior's Don't Cry by Melba Pattillo Beals
• A memoir: Alicia, My Story by Alicia Appleman Jurman
• A book you can finish in a day: Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink
• A book with antonyms in the title: Big Sister, Little Sister by LeUyen Pham
• A book set somewhere you've always wanted to visit: The Silent Governess by Julie Klassen
• A book that came out the year you were born: Charly by Jack Weyland
• A book with bad reviews: Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
• A trilogy: The Birthmarked Trilogy by Caragh O'Brien
• A book from your childhood: Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine
• A book with a love triangle: Matched (series) by Allie Condie
• A book set in the future: The Giver by Lois Lowry
• A book set in high school: Scribbler of Dreams by Mary E. Pearson or The Secret Journal of Brett Colten by Kay Lynn Mangum
• A book with a color in the title: The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley
• A book that made you cry: The Help by Kathryn Stockett
• A book with magic: Enchanted by Alethea Kontis
• A graphic novel: I've never actually read one of these.
• A book by an author you've never read before:  Something by Charles Dickens (because I've never actually read a book by him!)
• A book you own but have never read: The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
• A book that takes place in your hometown: As far as I know, there is only one book set in Richmond, UT and it is a history of the town. Looks like I'll have to write one!
• A book that was originally written in a different language: Ruby Red (The Precious Stone Trilogy) by Kerstin Gier (translated by Anthea Bell)
• A book set during Christmas: Little Red Buckets by Lynda M. Nelson
• A book written by an author with your same initials: I'm still looking for this one!
• A play: Twelve Angry Men by Reginald Rose
• A banned book: Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
• A book based on or turned into a TV show: Arthur by Marc Brown or The Little House Series by Laura Ingalls Wilder
• A book you started but never finished: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte 

Comment below if you want any additional info on any of these books!

 Since the month is almost over (I started this post four weeks ago!), here's how I'm doing so far:

• A book with more than 500 pages:
• A classic romance:
• A book that became a movie: 
• A book published this year: 
• A book with a number in the title: 
• A book written by someone under 30:
• A book with nonhuman characters: 
• A funny book:
• A book by a female author: 
• A mystery or thriller: 
• A book with a one-word title: 
• A book of short stories:
• A book set in a different country: 
• A nonfiction book: 
• A popular author's first book: 
• A book from an author you love but haven't read yet: 
• A book a friend recommended: The Winter Witch by Paula Brackston (*** PG-13)
• A Pulitzer-Prize winning book: 
• A book based on a true story:
• A book at the bottom of your to-read list: 
• A book your mom loves: 
• A book that scares you: 
• A book more than 100 years old: 
• A book based entirely on its cover: Into the Whirlwind by Elizabeth Camden (**** PG)
• A book you were supposed to read in school but didn't:
• A memoir: 
• A book you can finish in a day: 
• A book with antonyms in the title: 
• A book set somewhere you've always wanted to visit: 
• A book that came out the year you were born:
• A book with bad reviews:
• A trilogy: 
• A book from your childhood:
• A book with a love triangle: 
• A book set in the future:
• A book set in high school: 
• A book with a color in the title: 
• A book that made you cry: 
• A book with magic: Wisdom's Kiss by Catherine G. Marshall (*** PG)
• A graphic novel: 
• A book by an author you've never read before: 
• A book you own but have never read:
• A book that takes place in your hometown: 
• A book that was originally written in a different language:
• A book set during Christmas: 
• A book written by an author with your same initials:
• A play:
• A banned book: 
• A book based on or turned into a TV show: 
• A book you started but never finished: 

I will update this list monthly, so come back for more ideas! The star ratings are based on a five-star system. The list includes 50 books, so if you want to join me you should plan on reading a book roughly every week. Happy reading!

New Year, New You...No Thanks

I read a book to my daughter yesterday that disturbed me greatly. It was one of those "I can read it all by myself" Cat in the Hat labelled books (although, thank goodness, it wasn't written by Dr. Seuss) and she had picked it out at the library all by herself.

I should have known by the title.
Oh well.
Hopefully her childhood an emotional well-being isn't too terribly scarred (and we can all be grateful for the fact that she doesn't actually listen for more than two minutes when I read her books). Although perhaps it is not a good sign that I just bribed her with two chocolate kisses for the rights to borrow said book long enough to write this post.

This is how it went down yesterday.
"I Want to Be Somebody New!" by Robert Lopshire.

"Once I wanted to be in the zoo. 
And that was the day I first met you.
You said that the zoo was not for me.
The circus, you said, was where I should be.

At about this point, I realized once again that I read way too much into simple children's literature (see my controversial facebook post about Curious George that took place about a month ago). But already, two pages in, I was seeing literal evidence of a social media phenomenon that has taken over my facebook timeline and instagram feeds: #newyearnewyou and proclamations that if we all just lose 20 pounds we will feel better about ourselves.

And so the circus is where I went. 
I did my tricks with spots on a tent.
I put my spots way up in the air. 
I put my spots just everywhere!

Do you see where my mind went with this? If spots are our talents and perhaps our time, I started to view myself and others putting our focus on outward beauty, something that the faceless "society" has told us we must be and do: a stay-at-home mom must have a side business (most likely some pyramid scheme); a woman must have a passion that every spare moment is dedicated to (and it cannot be family or religion, that's just wrong); if you didn't sign up for a 5k, half-marathon, triathlon (or heck, a gym membership) this year, what the (bleep) is wrong with you?

My tricks with spots were lots of  fun. 
But no more spot tricks!
I am done!
Now I want to be somebody new.
So here's a  new trick I'll show to you!
   Ready! Get set now.
  One, two, three...
Now look and tell me what you see.

This just in...all of those things, if they are something that you feel compelled to do by some outside force and not a real, inner desire, will cease be fun and at some point they will not be enough. You will have to go further, work harder, and spend more time, all for the sake of becoming someone new.

When will just being you be enough?
Surely, I thought, that was where this book was going. The character had to find out he was okay being just the creature he was, right?
And, it did, eventually, but this is what I had to wade through to get there...

But being that big cannot be fun. 
Say! You must weigh at least a ton!
...You're very big.
You're very fat.
We do not care for you like that.

...But  being that tall can't be any fun.
You're taller now than everyone!
Your head is now so high in the air,
it's hard to see your face up there.
...We do not like to see you tall.
We do not like you tall at all!

...You are as small as small can be.

Well, what do you think? 
I'm asking you.
Do I look good this way to you?

We did not like you fat or tall.
And now you know what's wrong with small!

Okay! Okay! Okay, you two.
I'll make myself be someone new.
Ready? Get set now,
One, two three...

Now look and tell me what you see!

Oh no you don't! 
You stop right there!
We like you and we really care. (Insert sarcastic snort here from me)

We liked you best, a whole whole lot,
when you were just our old friend Spot.

Say! You are right!
As right can be!
And it does feel best to be just me!

FINALLY, I say. FINALLY.

Why does this get to me so much, you wonder? Surely this is no big deal. And why does this book immediately remind me of body image?

Well, perhaps it is this January Resolution time of year. Perhaps it is the post-Holiday treat guilt trip you find on billboards and commercials and junk mail and every outside source that tells you there is no other way to be a "new you" without losing ten to twenty pounds.

Here's the thing. I did that.
Not--and let me make this very clear--not on purpose.

Almost five months ago, I gave birth to a nine-pound baby. I now weigh 55 pounds less than I did the night before I had him. That's more than just getting rid of the pregnancy weight in celebrity speed. I now weigh 30 pounds less than my pre-pregnancy weight, all thanks to a medication that keeps me alive.

And, you can hate me if you want for saying this, I didn't put one ounce of effort into doing that. I ate every darn cookie and carbohydrate and French fry I wanted (I'd spent the previous eight months on an extremely strict diet). And, unless you count running up and down stairs fetching clean diapers and burp rags and running after a two-year-old all day, I did nothing in the form of dedicated exercise. No marathon training or yoga routine here.

So it might make sense to you why every time someone compliments me on my weight loss, I feel a bit like quoting Taylor Swift: "Fakers gonna fake fake fake."

I have extremely conflicted emotions about all of this (catching on to that now, are you?). While I appreciate that people care about me to notice, there is some part of me that hurts with each compliment.

"You are looking so good these days!"
Did I not look good before I lost thirty pounds?

"You get more beautiful each time I see you!"
Was I not a beautiful person before I lost thirty pounds?

"You are so skinny!"
Are you saying I was fat at what I thought was my ideal weight (twenty pounds ago)?

Actual quotes from actual people. Actual thoughts from actual me.
Please do not be offended if you have said something like the above quotes to me. I am truly not offended, and it is truly the sweetest and most cherished people in my life that have said these things. I just feel that it is important for me to set the record straight.

It might seem crazy to you, but I don't feel like a new person (isn't that what all the ads promise? New year, new goal, new weight, new numbers, new person?). Aside from the weirdness of putting on size six skinny jeans, I still feel like the same me. When I look in the mirror, I see the same person. In fact, I don't really notice a difference around my middle (where the most weight has disappeared), but rather on my feet and ankles and wrists and fingers. Sometimes (gasp!) I even miss the weight I was before--I liked those clothes, and I loved being able to wear my wedding ring 24/7 without worrying about it falling off my finger.

I know, people change. We become new people daily (haven't I written about that before?). But at the heart of it all, there is a core to me that will always be the pure essence of Rinda. It is what lets you recognize me through the years and trials and education and experiences and a few extra helpings of cheese and ice cream.

I was very blessed to be raised by a family that didn't base their love for me off of the way I looked. I always knew my parents found me beautiful, and my siblings appreciated me for me (even when we teasingly called each other "40 Fat" and "Chubalub," weight did not define our love). Those traits have blessed me well in my marriage (did you know that my husband lost 85 pounds on his mission and I loved him long before he became a triathlon athlete?)

While sometimes I did feel out of place growing up as a tall, "solid, big-boned" girl, those thoughts and feelings always came from outside sources, never my Heavenly Father or my family. I learned over a decade ago that my beauty was not dependent on how I looked on the outside. I learned that if I worked hard to make my inside beautiful, the outside beauty would come.

That is what I hope people see when they see me.
Not my weight loss.
And maybe, perhaps if you are someone who has said something to me, that is what you meant to compliment. Because you know what? I am looking good these days because I am feeling good these days. I love being a mother again. I am no longer battling depression every hour of every day. My family has brought a new light and twinkle to my eyes. And, two and a half years after the job that destroyed my writing soul, I am coming up with new story ideas daily and I am gaining the confidence to start writing again.

So this is what I hope to teach my daughter and she grows older and taller,as she inevitably (which she reminds me on a daily basis) will "get big!"

Try new things, find new passions, work hard to be the person you want to become.
But don't let your body image, a number on a scale, or outside forces define who you are.

And, though it seems so Pinteresty-cliche, be-you-tiful.

The Story of My Life

Many of you have wondered where my "Rinda's Reads" reading lists have disappeared to. Unless you count rereading the Hunger Games and Harry Potter series in their entirety (entireties?), I haven't gotten a chance to read anything new or worthwhile since November (ten months ago, if you catch my drift). Something has been missing in my life.

I had twenty LOVELY minutes today where I got that something back. My wonderful, thoughtful husband got me a new book for my birthday. Not just any book, though--he wanted to make sure it was something I haven't read and would love. So what did he do? Texted the husband of one of my bestest friends and said, "I want to get Rinda a book for her birthday. Does your wife have any ideas?" And because his wife is one of my bosom book buddies/kindred spirits, she knew exactly what I had read and what I hadn't and what books I'd already read and wanted to own. That's a good friend.

Anyway, I got a new book for my birthday (in July. Like five weeks ago.) Remembering all the wonderful hours I spent reading while pumping, feeding, and cuddling my newborn Kevin, I decided to save said book until after Sly arrived. I picked it up in the hospital and read about a chapter. Since then I've read 1.5-5 pages a day (which, for me, is not much). Usually this is a sign that I dislike a book. After three weeks I would have given up on a book at this rate...but the thing is, I knew this book was excellent. I treasured the few pages I snuck in here and there as I pump what little remains of my sad, sad milk supply in an effort to avoid mastitis.

And today, after I'd taken my unhappy little baby to the doctor for fourth time in three weeks (seriously, I don't think we've gone a single week this whole year without visiting a doctor's office!) and spent several minutes praying for the patience to appreciate my creative, chatty, beautiful daughter, a miracle happened.

She went to sleep.

He went to sleep, all cuddled up on me.

AND I GOT TO READ. Something that wasn't Curious George or the Berenstein Bears.

For more than one page.

For like fifty pages.

And suddenly, it seemed that life could be beautiful again.

And, as so often happens in truly good books, I came across a piece of genuine wisdom that perfectly sums up my life at the moment.

"Life does often get in the way of one's reading," agreed the Major.

Thank you, Major Pettigrew.

So there's your answer, folks. Life has gotten in the way of Rinda's Reading.

But if you want to read a book that I am quickly falling in love with, even though I'm only halfway through it, pick up Major Pettigrew's Last Stand from your local library. Never have you loved a 68-year-old widower/retired military Englishman so very much.

I am His Mother

Yesterday was a big day for me.

I failed and I succeeded all in one day.

We brought our son home on Friday. Folks, he is truly adorable. And though labor and delivery is never fun, I would do it all over again to have him here and to be able to look into his round little red face covered with tiny pimples (because his mother was very hormonal) and one little dimple and remember what happiness feels like. For the last several months, I just haven't been able to feel happy. Or joyful. Or passionate about anything but sneaking a treat and getting some extra sleep (which was undoubtedly uncomfortable anyway). The minute I delivered that baby, I just felt...better.

There were so many things I was hoping would go differently this time around, and for the most part, everything felt pretty near perfect. Yeah, would have been nice to say I could have done it without the epidural, but I'm convinced it would have taken three times as long to get him here without one. Yeah, would have been nice to hold him right away, but there was something so magical about watching his daddy be the first parent to snuggle him--and lucky for us, the doctor took her time cleaning me up, so I got to sit and watch him marvel in our new little miracle. Not only that--but we got that moment. The one where the baby comes out and you know he is okay, so you look at each other and there are tears and that unspoken communication of "look what beautiful thing we created!"

Yes, Italy was kind to us indeed.

We got to bring Sly (*not his real name, but since it seems to be the thing to refer to my children as my little brother does, this little man has been Sly since before his parents were married) home less than 48 hours after his birth. Actually, he was home 37 hours after he was delivered. I can't even tell you how many hours old Kevin was when she got to come home! We are so blessed that everything has been different this time around.

Except...one thing.

The one thing I counted on being different has been very much the same as it was with Kevin.

I wanted so badly to be able to nurse this baby. I mean, really get to nurse him, not just the whole pump-and-bottle routine I did with Kevin. I always thought that the reason she never learned to nurse was because she was so old before she got to try. Now I know differently.

The first time I tried to nurse Sly, he latched on right away and did great. It was a bit painful, but I expected it to be that way. I fed him twice that night and then, at about 7:00 am, my nurse came in and instead of bringing him to me, told me that he'd had a slightly low blood sugar reading so they were going to give him a bottle. I asked if they wanted me to nurse him but they didn't seem to think that would bring him up fast enough, so I agreed. He still latched throughout the rest of the day, but we were supplementing with little bits of formula through one of those small tubes I'd come to loathe when Kevin was in the NICU. He was still in my room and at my chest, though, so I counted my blessings. By the end of the day I was very sore and slightly bloody, but we were doing it!

Scott took Kevin swimming the evening we brought Sly home. I was resting in bed and listening to the baby monitor when I started to feel that something wasn't right. When I went in to check on him, Sly was looking slightly shaky. I was worried about his blood sugar getting low again, so I tried to nurse him. He just screamed. So I gave him a small bottle. He was fine a few minutes later.

This became our routine: try to get him to nurse, succeed in making him scream, and finally give up and feed him a bottle. Each time he would latch for less and less time until he refused to try to latch at all.

So I decided to enlist the help of my old friend, The Pump.

I have a love-hate relationship with that thing. Scott and I agreed when I stopped pumping after six months with Kevin that if it ever came to that again, we would go straight to formula.

I didn't give in so easily to this plan, though. If I can just get my milk to come in, I thought, then maybe it will be enough to get him to latch again.

I pumped and I pumped and I pumped. Each time, I was getting nowhere near the colostrum amounts I should have been getting. And my milk still didn't come.

Have I mentioned our son is over nine pounds?

The kid would have been starving had he been trying to live on that alone.

I prayed and I prayed and I prayed for a solution. Was there something I hadn't tried? Was there a magic answer? Could a lactation consultant fix our problem, or were we beyond help? Would be going straight to just bottles now be giving up too easily?

I sat there, in my son's room, in the middle of the night and listed the pros and cons of breast vs. bottle in our specific case. The main two pros in the breast feeding column came down to bonding and pride. The pros in the bottle list were much longer and made more sense: I could get more sleep so that I could be a nicer person to both of my children and my husband (Scott confessed that this was his main reason), pumping was a hassle, I could give up the insulin and get back to a normal health routine much faster, he could be fed by grandparents and bond with them, my milk wouldn't be enough even if it did come in, we might get a date night once in a while, he would be a much happier baby, I would be a much happier mommy...the list went on and on.

And I knew then, at two am, that failing was my answer.

I'll admit, I felt sad. I felt guilty. I couldn't give my child what he needed from me, and now anyone could fill his needs--nourishment would come from a can instead of from me. I'd never get to use that adorable and thrifty nursing cover my mother-in-law helped me make. I'd never get to know what it felt like to not have to pack bottles everywhere we went. Breast is best--and all along my goal with this pregnancy was to give this child his best chance at life. Neither of us would be getting the benefits if I gave up now. As a woman, I felt very much a failure.

That morning, Scott went back to work. I was on my own with a two-and-a half-year old and a four-day-old for half a day. I was nervous. I was tired. I was emotionally drained.

And, as comfort so often comes to me, it came again, in the words of a book.

I laid Sly on a quilt on his floor and had Kevin bring me a book from his shelf. Reading to them was something I could do that wouldn't favor one over the other, so it seemed like a good option. Kevin brought me two small board books that the Easter Bunny had left in Sly's mini basket. She handed me the one with the bird on the front cover.

"Are You My Mother? By P.D. Eastman," I began to read.

"A mother bird sat on her egg. The egg jumped. 'I must get something for my baby bird to eat!' she said. So away she went."

I know that feeling, I thought. It is always about getting them something to eat. And it is the mother's responsibility.

"Inside the nest, the egg jumped. It jumped and jumped and jumped. Until...out came a baby bird! 'Where is my mother?' he said. He did not see her anywhere."

Interesting, I noticed. He doesn't care about food. It's his mother he wants. But she is so caught up in how to feed him, she doesn't even notice.

And for the next several cardboard pages, I waited for the little bird to find his mother. And I realized that although the mother thought that it was all about the food, to the baby bird, it was all about her. The kitten, the hen, the dog, and the cow could not replace her. Conversely, all the doctors and nurses and mommy bloggers and relatives in the world can't replace what my baby needs from me--and that isn't food. It's love.

"Just then, the baby bird saw a big thing. 'You are my mother!' he said.

"The big thing said, "SNORT!'"

And at this point I had to laugh...because snorting is exactly the kind of sound The Pump makes.

"'Oh no!' said the baby bird. 'You are not my mother! You are a scary Snort!' 

"The Snort lifted the baby bird up, up, up. Then something happened. The Snort put the baby bird right back in the tree. The baby bird was home!"

The Snort machine did the same thing for us, I realized. It put my perspective back where it should be. Through everything I went through with this pregnancy, how can I look at this chunky, pink, beautiful healthy baby boy and consider myself a failure? 

"Just then the mother bird came back."

It isn't about how he is fed,  I realized. It is about how he is loved.

"'I know who you are,' said the baby bird. 

"'You are not a kitten or a hen or a dog. You are not a cow or a Snort! You are a bird, and you are my mother!'"

And now, if you will excuse me, I have to go. My baby boy is crying because he needs me.

Because I am his mother.

Coming Back: An Apology and An Explanation

Hello friends.

It has been a while.

I'm sorry.

I just haven't liked people in general for the last several weeks (months).

But guess what? Our air conditioner got fixed yesterday, so now I am back to wanting to do normal things and not just get mad at every person I see.

So this is good.

You can be grateful that I have spared you all the pregnancy woes for the past three or four weeks. I'm miserable, yes, but I'm also still pregnant, so we will all be grateful for that (So this is what it feels like to be nine months pregnant?). And tomorrow I get my last progesterone shot (on my birthday), with which I have had a love-hate relationship for the last 20 weeks. I know they have worked, but they have also been horrifically painful and inconvenient and made me very, very grumpy. And Grumpy Mommy has not been a very fun person to be around for the past few weeks.

And then there is Kevin. Kevin has been on a roller coaster of emotions herself. And while it really bugs me when people (aka my sister) say "It's just because you are having a baby" (like, what? We are never supposed to add to our family? She wouldn't be into the terrible twos if I weren't ruining her life? Teething has nothing to do with her constant whining and crying and mischief?) she is starting to get used to the idea and catch on. It'll still be a shock to her when brother gets here, but she is all about playing with her dolls and giving loves and kisses to them and she tells everyone about her baby brother (although she will still change the subject if anyone other than mom and dad brings it up). Also, I apologize to anyone I ever said the previous "just because of the new baby" comment to. Even if I wasn't wrong, which I probably was, that has got to be the most annoying thing any pregnant woman with a toddler was ever told. I get it. Never again.

We've also coined two new terms around our house to define the kind of days we are having: Ramona Days and Alexander Days. Both come from some of my favorite children's literature: Beverly Cleary's loveable Ramona Quimby and that cute picture book we all identify with, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

Kevin is the Queen of Ramona Days. Ramona Days are ones in which you don't mean to make mistakes, but every time you turn around you are doing something wrong. Things get broken, moms get mad, misunderstandings abound...but it doesn't really feel like it is your fault, you've just made a few mistakes and had some bad moments. Sometimes on these days you feel like being extra cuddly and nice to make up for your blunders. Have you ever had a day like that?

I, on the other hand, am Queen of the Alexander Days. I seem to be having a lot of them lately. These are days when everything counts against you and everything goes wrong and by lunchtime you are so grumbly that you cause even more bad things to happen to you. My Alexander Days usually start with sleepless and painful nights, and then Kevin will wake up before I'm ready for her, and the kitchen will be messy, and people will need me to do things, and I will end up not liking people, and Kevin will have a Ramona Day, which leads me to want to quit Motherhood (ask Scott how many of those emails and texts he's gotten in the last nine months, I dare you), which leads to tears and depression and a messy house and nothing getting done and high blood sugars.

In short, Ramona Days mixed with Alexander Days are not very fun. And while I know there will be plenty more of them in the future, it helps to have a way to label them. Somehow, if I can pass it off as "She's just having a Ramona Day" or "Today I feel like Alexander" then tomorrow becomes an Anne Shirley day. Because you know what Anne Shirley always says-- "Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it."

Rinda's Reads: Kevin's Picks for Father's Day Shopping

It has been a while since I've posted a reading list update. I don't really have any new grown-up reads that have overly impressed me, but I thought I might lend a hand to some of you doing Father's Day shopping this week.

Here is a book for Dads that I found at the library yesterday. It truly is adorable and even Scott said we may have to buy a copy for ourselves to add to our collection:



Daddies do it Different by Alan Lawrence Sitomer
This book follows a pattern of a little girl and her parents and the differences in the way they do things--when Mommy gets her dressed, everything matches and her hair looks perfect. Daddy, on the other hand, likes to combine stripes and dots and put lots of gel in her hair to make her curls go crazy.

And a book for Grandpa's:



How to Babysit a Grandpa by Jean Reagan
One of Scott's brother's families gave this book to Grandpa Fowler a few years ago. This year we decided to give it to my Dad (aka Papa) for Father's Day. There are lots of helpful instructions (like appropriate snacks and how to get Papa to nap) for any little one "babysitting" a grandparent.

And if you happen to have a Grandma with a birthday or some other holiday coming up, you could check out the book that we gave Scott's mom for her birthday this week:



How to Babysit a Grandma by Jean Reagan
This one is just as cute as the Grandpa one!