my most favorite 10 minutes of the day

Today when I went to put Maisey down for a nap I knew that she was tired enough from the night before that if I gave her a minute, she would fall asleep in my arms. And you'd have to be a fool to pass that up. It may have been the fact that it was the first day I put all her hair up in piggies, signifying the end of baby-ness. Or the fact that she now fits in the brown Etnies and the pink Converse. There was the physical evidence of the day queuing my brain that her baby days are coming to a close, yet the fact that I could still rock her to sleep- like she's somewhere in between baby and child and the transformation makes me feel crazy inside. I LOVE this age when they soak up everything like sponges, and then return it to you in squeaky little voices with their own dialect and body language. I've admitted before that this age is my real incentive for wanting more babies. If I don't go through the whole ordeal again I'll never get another 18 month old and I don't know if I can handle that. But recognizing that her baby days are over is just not something I'm ready to do. How terribly fast it goes. It terrifies me. Really and truly. Please don't let my babies grow up. I don't think my body can crank out many more and if I don't have moments like today, where I just hold chubby bodies and stroke messy pigtails I swear a part of me will die.

St. George

In February we went to St. George for a week (Tim blessed Michael and Phil blessed Dallin & baptized Jocelyn). This is the main reason we wanted to come to Utah. It's so exciting to get to be a part of family stuff for a change. Also, humidity is stupid.

Family trips often involve lots of work. And I realize that the trip for the kids is an entirely different one than the adults experience.

Whenever we take trips, on either side of our family, I come home and look at pictures of the girls with their cousins and it makes me feel better about the mountain of laundry and the massive amount of cleaning that the van requires. Although I have roughly a thousand cousins, I only know a handful of them. And I really love the ones I know and think it's such a cool relationship. It's so fun to be related to someone you consider a really close friend.

I hope we give our kids enough of these experiences that they grow up being related to some of their best friends.

Economics 101

So I would be lying if I said I loved college Econ. Except one day our professor brought skittles to help drive home a point, and I liked that day. Don't remember what his point was though. BUT, I do seem to recall the basic principle of opportunity cost. The idea of considering the benefits you could have received, had you made a different choice.

Let's consider the opportunity cost of my lavish and selfish decision to take a shower:

I could have enjoyed my freshy mopped floor for longer than 15 minutes had I decided to go with the greasy ponytail for just one more day.

Or Exihibit B, the day I closed the office door and locked it so that I could schedule a list of doctor appointments:



Or last week when I was...doing something else responsible, which I can't recall at this time, but Lila felt the need to give Maisey the entire jar of Nutella...



And just this weekend when, heaven forbid, I got sick, a 5 gallon bucket (brand new!) of whole wheat flour was dispersed throughout the house as I was doubled over on the back porch heaving. What was my alternitive choice I ask you? C'mon girls, throw me a bone here. These are the pictures that Dads who are living halfway across the world find hilarious. Also Uncles who have yet to clean such messes under wretched conditions. Ha. Ha. Ha. So do I. Ha. Ha. Ha. Hear me laughing?

Notice the open jar of Nutella on the carpet









Reminiscant of the torture chamber from the Princess Bride


Why must it always involve Nutella?

And where are their clothes?

And where is their mother?

And what do skittles have to do with Economics?

I don't get any of this.

Fallen Warrior (from Braden)

Family,

I just had a pretty humbling experience that I though I would share
with all of you. I got an email announcing a fallen warrior ceremony
that was going to take place on the airfield. I get these emails most
days, but I have never been able to attend as I am usually on scope.
However, tonight it worked out. I was escorted onto the flight line
and, under a beautiful clear night sky, got to walk over to the C-130
that was carrying the body. I was a little early so I got to chat a
little bit with the Col that was leading the ceremony. He told me a
little about the process, how the ceremony would go and then we all
walked over together. There were probably 35 of us in attendance. They
lowered the gate of the plane and we all squeezed into the cargo area
of the aircraft and surrounded the casket. There was no other cargo on
board. A metal casket covered in an American Flag rested in the middle
of the compartment. The chaplain took a couple of moments to read
Psalm 23 and then said a little prayer. As I listened to the part
about "dwelling in the House of the Lord forever" I was deeply touched
as I though about this soldier whose face I will never see. He was
home. Then my thoughts moved to the family and friends who will not
speak to him again in this life. I wondered who those people were, if
this guy was a father, or even a mother. Maybe a spouse, but certainly
someone's child. Standing in the back of an airplane I was deeply
touched by what it means to give the ultimate sacrifice, and not so
much his/her sacrifice, as his/her time of probation is over, but the
sacrifice that was made by those that will agonize over the loss of a
loved one.

Then as we all stood there the commander of the base, Gen. Tuck, knelt
down and laid a coin on the coffin and said a silent prayer. I waited
and watched as others did the same thing. I then realized that I could
if I wanted to as well. I knelt, put my hand on the casket, and
thanked Heavenly Father for his Plan of Salvation, and prayed that the
loved ones of this soldier would be comforted, and I was then flooded
with gratitude for my understanding of the Plan. How fortunate we are
to know it. I stood and walked down the ramp and formed up with the
others to form a pathway for the body to be loaded onto a van. I
watched as the six men and women hefted the casket. My heart clenched
as I watched them strain under the weight, thinking of the body inside
that would never again feel pain or death. As we did a slow salute
they pushed the casket into the van and we were dismissed. We walked
off the flight line in silence and I saw more than one tear soaked
face.

I am so glad I was able to experience this. When I was heading over to
the ceremony I was sure I would be overwhelmed by a sense of
patriotism and love of country. While those feelings were present, I
was surprised and pleased that my dominant emotions were those of love
and gratitude to Heavenly Father and a renewed dedication to follow
His plan and the example of our Savior.

I love you all,

Braden

How I see it

It may seem surprising, but I LOVE this picture.

For a few reasons.

It's certainly not very clear, has a distracting glare and reflection, and the wrong things are in focus.

BUT, it's taken from my perspective. This is how I see things- peering around the corner, looking out a window, listening through a door. I like to think of it as eavesdropping with a purpose. Or in other words-mothering.

Anabelle was playing outside with her new bestie when it was time for the daily 5:00 national anthem. As the prelude music played I listened as they stopped their game and came to attention (making it all the better that Easton is wearing a coat made of legit ABU's 'like my Dad who is on Kuwait'). They couldn't agree on which direction they should be facing (Easton was confused because his house faces a different direction), so they each faced the direction they felt was right. Silent and sober the whole time. Cutest thing a pair of five year olds could do I think.

Digging Deep

Today I worked on some finishing details of the reading nook I have been creating for the girls. Lila didn't nap today and consequently did her monster morph right on schedule at about 4. We had to go to Target where no one behaved and Lila screamed most of the time. Kristen invited us over but I had no desire to take the pack of baby beasts out in public, so we were on the phone working out some plans to see each other another time. I fed them and then put them in the bath. I walked in to discover that Anabelle had dumped the entirety of a brand new bottle of bath soap (I put some in 5 minutes before and it was the first time it had been used) into the bath. She did that same thing last week and got in trouble for it. Apparently not enough trouble. So I am annoyed (although I do have to admit that Maisey did in fact look funny covered in bubbles and they were having so much fun together in there which allowed me to get the dishwasher loaded...




However, I cannot buy a bottle of bath soap a day so....I was frustrated. I then went to the girls room (which I had spent forever that day cleaning) to put something away. And found that while I was on the phone with Kristen, this happened...



Now if this had occurred at 9 in the morning perhaps I would be better able to cope. But it seems like when I get to that point in the day when I am just so done- with the whining and the arguing, and even just the constant cleaning and taking care and meeting needs- my patience reservoir runs dry. It is something I am really struggling with because this seems to be the prime time for opportunity with the girls. It is when Anabelle wants to talk. It is when Lila gives her attention most readily to books. It is when Anabelle begs me every night to snuggle her because I used to do that and she's really missing it. I can see signs right and left of little girls who could use more love and attention but I feel like I'll scream or cry or both if I don't walk out of their room and leave Mommy land immediately.

It's the struggle of seeing clearly a need, and wanting so much for that need to be met, and knowing that it is up to me to fulfill it, but feeling completely unable in that moment to do so. In my mind, I call it digging deep. I am training myself to take a few deep breaths and close my eyes for a slight second and tell myself that I can do this. I can read 15 more verses of the Book of Mormon because Anabelle asked me to, explaining that it's comforting. I can read one more book to Lila because I can tell she's having a very hard time and this is something that brings her peace. I can snuggle them for a few minutes because it's time where I'm not asking them to do anything; I'm just giving love and attention, which they need in extra abundance. Even if I am mentally dying to get out of there before I lose it, I can hold it together for a few more minutes because I am a Mom. And being a Mom means you give more than you thought you could. More than you knew you had. Because precious little hearts and tender little souls count on you to do that. And you do it day after day and night after night. They are counting on me to dig deep and summon all the love and strength that I can.

I assumed that Lila had been the one to de-book the book shelf. When I asked her about it she said, "Anabelle did it on purpose". Anabelle confessed. She followed that with a sincere apology and many tears. I could tell that she really did feel sorry and told me so many times. I could also tell that she needs love and time from me, although her behavior during the day makes it a struggle for me to feel so inclined.

I will say that I believe the hardest part about parenting alone is not just the magnificent inconvenience and inefficiency of my life. It is going to bed at the end of every day feeling like my kids need more than I am giving them, yet not knowing how I can give any more. It's the disappointment I feel with myself for my shortness or lack of patience. It's the realization that I am not the fun Mom I once thought myself to be, at least not as frequently as I would like.

I've been reflecting today on what I can do to increase my ability to accomplish said goals. Last night as I began to watch a show online I felt that it wasn't the best thing I could do. But I watched it anyway. Then as I showered the thought came to me that the reason I can't afford to waste my time watching popular sitcoms is not because it will shake my perception of what is OK. Or change the way I view commandments or proper principles. It is simply because the spirit does not accompany those shows. It doesn't edify me in any way. It doesn't elevate my mind or lighten my heart. And at this point in my life I NEED so much the companionship of the spirit. I know how weak I am left to my own devices. I am counting on the direction of the spirit to help me know what my kids need, to help me know how to keep my marriage connected. I need extra help and I simply can't expect to receive it if my mind is being occupied in limiting and wasteful ways.

Some days I feel like I did okay, but they are far outweighed by a feeling of hoping that the next day goes better.

Here's to using my time in more meaningful ways in the name of digging deep.

A winner of a dinner

Dinner was funny last night.

Anabelle fed Lila via her straw.

Lila fed Anabelle with spoonfulls so giant they fell off the spoon before they reached her mouth.

Maisey loved watching it all while sucking down a spnach smoothie. Until it went over board and covered walls on the other side of the room.

I didn't say a word. I just sat and watched all their giddy interactons with one another, and snapped pictures here and there.

And then it took me forever to clean it all up.

And while I was doing that Maisey came in and went through the cabinets, trying on various bowls to match her already dazzling ensemble.

And then at bedtime they cried because they were hungry and thirsty. ""I'm so hungry I won't be able to fall asleep and then I wll be tired and then I will be grumpy. YOU DON'T WANT ME TO BE GRUMPY"!

It was a fun dinner anyway.