Happiness Is...

It was one of those days where I was plotting how to get my house cleaner. How could I involve the kids more? When should we do it? Which tasks are appropriate to which kids? Hmmmm. Muddle muddle muddle. Think think think. Finally I concluded by feeling grateful for a sweet husband who never complains when the house isn't as clean as either of us would like.

Happiness, I decided, is recognizing what you have.

I don't have an immaculately clean house. But I do have a thoughtful, kind husband. And I do have a houseful of cute, lovable kids who I will miss terribly one day when my house is cleaner.

I don't have a masters degree. But I never racked up any accompanying student debt. And I am a stay-at-home mom--the ultimate goal I always dreamed of.

I don't have two eyes. But I do have deeper levels of compassion, understanding, and gratitude than I ever had before my cancer.

I don't have loads of leisure time to pursue personal goals. But I do have a sweet family who wants to be with me whenever they can.

Do you see what I mean? We all have limits, and we all have blessings. We can choose which we focus on. Happiness is recognizing what we have.

Will They Remember?

I was finally starting to see the light at the end of the laundry room tunnel. It seemed all I had done for two days was sort, wash, fold, and put away. Occasionally Abby or Grace would bring me a doll to swaddle or clothe, but I was generally buried in laundry and they played by themselves.

A little while later I had left the laundry and was playing with them. I was a tickle monster, and they giggled, shrieked, and ran around while I hugged, kissed, and tickled them. Then I thought, "Will they remember this?"

Will my children remember me as being distantly present--in the kitchen or laundry room--but not really there? Or will they remember me laughing with them, playing with them, reading to them, and snuggling them? What will they remember of their childhoods?

A few weeks passed, and I was having one of those lovely days in the life of a stay-at-home mom. My kids were all sick and, I must confess, I find it to be completely unsettling to be surrounded by little people who cough, hack, snort, and sneeze on me. I was feeling tired (from caring for a sick toddler at night) and suffering from the sore throat that comes when you live in the aforementioned conditions. I was feeling a tad grumpy. So I decided to try to look for things that were funny. Surely they were surrounding me just waiting to be noticed--after all, I live with small children.

So a few minutes later when Abby picked up my watch and asked what it was for, I told her it was so I would know when to tickle my kids. When Abby wanted to wear a towel turban the way I do after a shower, I helped her assemble it.

 When Grace put on Abby's new swimsuit, I laughed and they humored me in a little photo shoot. 

When Abby pretended to be Captain Hook, I turned into the crocodile. It was a lot of fun. Thank goodness I decided to shelf my morning grumpiness.

I can't really control what my kids will remember, but I can control the effort and time I put in to help them have good memories. Motherhood is hard--some days it's really hard. But perhaps the next time I want to cry (or scream), I'll look for things that make me laugh. Then my kids will have something I will want them to remember. And so will I.

Socks Please?

For days Abby had been suffering from an eye infection and an ear infection. She looked and seemed pretty miserable. Then one day at lunch apparently her foot brushed against Jake's foot.

Jake: "Abby, your foot isn't well enough to touch my foot."

Did you know that eye infections and ear infections could be transmitted through feet? Boy, I better put on some socks.

Perhaps the luck o' the Irish can fend off those insidious germs...

Tender Moments

It was a Thursday evening, and we had just finished dinner. Cameron had retreated to our bedroom with his homework, and the kids had just joined a neighbor friend downstairs in the basement. I was left with the kitchen clean up. It was the beginning of a school weekend for Cameron, which often results in me feeling lonely and craving time with Cameron or just adult conversation in general. I was feeling tired and pregnant, and I wanted to sit down and cry, but I decided that it would be quicker to just clean up the kitchen and move on with life. I was barely getting underway when I heard Grace coming upstairs to find me. She walked over to me, pointed to her head, and said, "Bonk."

"Did you bonk your head?" I asked. She nodded, and I picked her up for a hug, kiss, and cuddle.

Mere seconds later she said, "Down." I put her down, and she headed back to play. She just needed a little love and sympathy before getting back to her activities.

Sometimes it surprises me just how tender and critical my role as a mother is.

A few days after that Jake had a fever and spent the day lethargically on the couch. Several times during the day he called forlornly to ask me to snuggle him.

It's easy to forget how much these precious little people need me. They depend on me for sympathy, attention, encouragement, comfort, and unconditional love. I feel so lucky to be their mom. I am there to watch Jake wash a firetruck at the open house for the new city fire station. I am there to join in the fun when Abby pretends there is a dragon under the kitchen table--we name him Orville and pretend to share our oranges with him. I am there when Grace puts Abby's underwear on over her jeans and then decides to finish off the ensemble with some of my heels.

I am there when Grace falls out of her toddler bed and cries at night. I am there to kiss Abby's finger when she pinches it. I am there to teach Jake a peaceful resolution to neighborhood squabbles.

Motherhood is tender, precious, and oh so sacred. I absolutely love it.

Baby Hungry

We were having one of those lovely family evenings together. We had decided to do a movie night, and Jake had selected his favorite movie for us--Mountain of the Lord. (Yes, our children live a wonderfully sheltered existence.) Cameron was in the kitchen popping the popcorn, and the whole house was scented with the buttery, salty smells of anticipation and family togetherness. I was sitting on the floor with the kids while they rolled around together in their jammies. Jake squeezed Grace, Grace laughed, and Abby and Jake launched into a discussion about how much they love Grace. I smiled and thought, "This is why we keep having kids."

There is something delightfully joyful and addictive about babies--their soft squishiness, their smiles and belly laughs, and the cute things they do that we all coo over. I love the way Abby and Jake adore Grace. They love to hug her, play with her, and laugh at the silly things she does. When our patience with her temper tantrums runs thin, they step in to help her. Families are a beautiful thing. I can't wait to see the kids fawning over our new baby this fall. August can't come soon enough.

Practice Makes Perfect

It was time for our morning routine where Jake and I settle in on the couch and he reads me all his homework books. But alas, unbeknownst to us Jake had just progressed in his reading level from book set 3 to book set 4, and books from set 4 are twice as long as the ones he was used to in set 3. Weeping, wailing, whining, and refusal to comply ensued.

From Jake's point of view, he had waaaaaay too much homework. After all, he is only in kindergarten. And should kindergarteners really be asked to read for 45-60 minutes every day?

From my point of view I could see that extra reading would help his skills improve. Practice makes perfect, right?

It was a hard pill to swallow, and I tried to be empathetic. He eventually settled in to read with a piece of homemade wheat bread smothered in honey. (A spoonful of sugar--or honey--helps the medicine go down.)

All the while I was pondering how the same principle applies to me. If practice makes perfect, then getting up every day to face endless messes, laundry piles, whining, and tantrums ought to eventually make me a better person. As the weeks, months, and years pass, I hopefully become a little bit more patient, a little bit more calm, a little bit more compassionate, and a little bit more loving. Throughout the process the grace of Christ lifts, strengthens, and enables me to do things I couldn't have done before. I'm not sure I see the progress. But then again, does Jake recognize his reading progress? Probably not as much as I do. I hope that when God looks down on me He sees me as being more patient and kind than I was two, three, or five years ago. I hope so.

So perhaps the next time I hear anguished shrieking over a coveted toy coming from the next room I'll remind myself that practice makes perfect and respond a little better than the time before. If not, perhaps I'll just sit down with a nice slab of bread smothered in honey and remind myself that there's always tomorrow.

Faith and the Holy Ghost vs. Easter Candy Overload

It was the day before Easter, and I was preparing a dessert for Easter dinner. Jake watched my preparations and then asked if he could lick the Cool Whip container when I was done.

Me: "Sorry, dear, but you're going to be eating enough candy this weekend. I don't think you need the Cool Whip container, too."

Jake: "Could the Holy Ghost convince you?"

Nice try, buddy. Very nice try.

Our Favorite General Conference Snack

When I was growing up (back during the Stone Ages in the remote land of Anchorage, Alaska), general conference was what you went and sat in a dark stake center to watch. It wasn't exactly the highlight of a young child's life every six months.

Fast forward a few decades, and we work really hard to make general conference fun at our house. It certainly helps that we can watch it in our jammies from the comfort of home. But let's be honest--fun and food are nearly synonymous to small children (or is that just people in general?) We have lots of general conference food traditions around here. But one thing that ubiquitously runs throughout is what we like to call Conference Corn.

You take a big bowl of popcorn. (We just pop some on the stove. You don't want anything with a heavy flavor here.) Combine it with a medium-sized bag of Fritos and half of a big box of Corn Pops. Melt some white chocolate, drizzle it all over, and stir to combine.

We usually make a big batch on Saturday morning and eat it all day. Then we make another big batch on Sunday morning. By Sunday afternoon, we feel fine about not seeing the stuff for another six months. But it keeps us all awake and happy. And in between kids' spills on the picnic blankets we spread around the room, it even lets us catch a few talks and take a few notes.

Happy conference everyone...and please pass the conference corn!

Drum Roll Please...

I know you've all been waiting on the edges of your seats for this news...

As it happens, Baby #4 is going to be another little princess. Abby is excited. Jake is adjusting to the idea that he isn't getting a new wrestling partner this year. Grace is somewhat oblivious. Cameron's first comment was that he is going to need to learn how to french braid.

For now, here are a couple pics of Her Royal Highness.

Are those eyes going to be blue?

Cute little baby feet.

We are getting pretty darn excited for her arrival. Too bad we (read: I) have to get through the heat of summer first.