Worm de la book

I wish I had more time to read.  I love to read.  I devour books when given the chance.  But I don't give myself the chance very often because once I start a book I am done for until I finish it.  Everything else in my life gets put on hold.  I basically have no self control.  Minus the basically.

I've been doing a lot of reading about all the current controversy with the LDS church (what's new, right?  There's always controversy).  I have started to read Rough Stone Rolling, which is supposedly one of the most comprehensive biographies about Joseph Smith, who is the founder of Mormonism.  I can feel myself getting sucked in.  I have already read two chapters today AND I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THAT.  This book is a billion pages long and if I can't put it down this will be a problem.  If you don't hear from me on this blog for a while, will someone please check in on my husband and children to make sure they have plenty of peanut butter and jelly?  I will be in my room drowning out the world around me while I sip iced Dr. Pepper and shove my face with bon bons.

Side note: what exactly is a bon bon?  Do people really eat them?  Are the people who eat them rich and fancy?  Because that's how I've always pictured them for some reason.  People who eat bon bons definitely don't have dirty screaming children swarming around them. *sigh*

So back to reading.  I like it.  My lifestyle does not agree with it.  And me and my lifestyle are in a fight about that.  But I remind myself that there will come a day that my kids are all grown, and no one needs me to make them a sandwich, or read them a story, or help them with homework, and I will have plenty of time to read.

And my heart will long for that dirty swarm of children.

And I will still be pondering about what a ridiculously weird word swarm happens to be.

A Stolen Scooter

So this 9 year old of mine got her scooter stolen from school yesterday.  She was there for an after school activity (until 4:15, so not late), and she and her friend left their scooters by the front door.  When they were finished and went out to go home both of their scooters were gone.  She came home with tears in her eyes asking why someone would take something that didn't belong to them.  It was a hard thing for me to see, and an even harder thing for me to explain.  I told her that sometimes people do things without thinking about who it will hurt, and we talked about keeping her scooter in a safer place next time.  This isn't the first time we've had scooters stolen from school (different school, 2 years ago), and it's so sad.  It's sad that someone would steal something from a child.  And it was likely another child, and that child will grow up to be an adult.  And that makes me even more sad.

And what makes me the most sad is knowing that this will not be the last time someone hurts her.  She will have her share of disappointments, and a few broken hearts, and the normal aches and pains that life brings.  And I wish I could protect her from it all.  And I wish I could make sure that she stays safe, emotionally as much as physically.  And I wish I could find a way to keep her from having the heartbreaking realization that life can be really, really hard.

This is why it is so important for me to teach her to turn to our loving Father in Heaven when life gets heavy.  To teach her to pray, really and truly and deeply pray.  To teach her to cry out to Him in her darkest moments.  Because He is the only one who will always, no matter what, no matter when, no matter where, always always be there for her.  For her.  He knows her and loves her and will be waiting for her to reach out to Him.  Just as He is waiting for you and me.  Whether it is over a stolen scooter, or a high school boyfriend, or the betrayal of a college roommate, or a difficult marriage, or a struggling child.  He is waiting to comfort and carry.

We just have to let Him.

F PLUS

 Have you ever had a day you would like to do over?  Not because it was amazing and wonderful, but because you had some glaring not great moments that you would like to erase and try again?  That was me yesterday.  I went to bed feeling like there were so many moments that I would have gotten a big fat F on.  Good thing we have tomorrows.  And I'm sorrys.  And loving kids and husbands who forgive.  My sweet 2 year old has gotten in this phase where she will spontaneously come put her hands on both of my cheeks, look into my eyes, and then slowly kiss me on the cheek and smile.  I feel like I might die from loving her too much every time she does it.  It has a way of snapping me out of my crazy and bringing me back to the moment where I can recognize what is important and let the other things go. 

So today is my chance to redeem myself from the day of F's I had yesterday.  To choose not to listen to the voice of failure in my head, and to try again.  And again.  And again. And to remind myself that it's ok that I am not perfect.  I don't need to be perfect.  I just need to be trying.  And I am really really good at trying.

The Loss of Another

There is so much heartache in this world.  Every person carries wounds, some that are obvious and many that are not.  I have started to notice this interesting phenomenon about other people's pain.  When I see someone who has experienced tragedy in their lives, whether through divorce, or death, or physical ailments or diseases, I want to peek into their lives and know all about them.  I want to know how they are coping.  I want to know about their pain.  I want to know what their life was like before and how it will be moving forward.  I think we are all like this.  This is why people like Stephanie Nielsen are so influential.  People flock to see tragedy.  And the recipient of that tragedy has the opportunity to share their stories to help lift others going through similar things and to be a message of hope and triumph to those watching.

Why do we rush to read about someone's heartache?  Is it because we are just nosy and judgmental?  I choose to believe there is a greater reason.  I choose to believe it is because we are compassionate.  When we see someone going through a great difficulty, we feel their pain.  We imagine how we would handle a similar situation.  We take their lessons and apply them into our lives.  And we gain a greater appreciation and gratitude for the blessings we enjoy.  In this way, we are helping each other.  We are learning and bettering our lives because of someone else's experiences.

Photo by Amelia Lyon

This is where my mind has been the past few days.  A close relative of my ex-husband recently experienced a horrific loss.  She and her husband lost their two and a half month old daughter to SIDS.  My heart has been grieving for them, and I have felt the weight of their loss in my own life.  Each time I look into the sweet face of my 2 year old, I feel it.  Each time my 7 year old wraps her arms around my waist in a quick hug, I feel it.  As I look through baby pictures of my girls, I feel it.  My heart is heavy.  So, so heavy.

And I am reminding myself to be a little more patient with the toddler messes.  And a little less irritated about the child who gets out of bed for one more hug.  And a little more thankful for the three beautiful children I've been blessed with in my life.  And it is for this reason that I am passing along the heartbreaking story of another.  So you readers can pray for their sweet family to feel peace and comfort during this time, and also so you can take the opportunity to evaluate your own life to find the things you take for granted.  Because someday, the moments that now overwhelm you will be fading memories.

To donate to this family for funeral expenses, please visit their donations page.

Service Through a Dress

I decided I wanted to start chronicling (ummm is that the weirdest word in the history of words?) some stories and memories about my mom.

It has been almost 4 years since she passed away, which is so crazy to me.  I haven't spoken to my mom in 4 years!  I still have her in my favorites on my phone, though her number now belongs to someone else. When she first passed away, I found myself reaching for my phone multiple times a day to call or text her, and I still can't bear to delete her information.  It's almost like that would be forgetting her or something.  Every once in a while I'll go look at her Facebook page, too, just to remind myself that there is still evidence of her, that her life hasn't completely disappeared.  It's the weirdest thing to think about her being gone.  How is it that someone is just not here anymore?  One day they are living, breathing, worrying, and the next, nothing.  I honestly don't know how people get through losing a loved one without a belief in an afterlife.

So.  Stories about my mom.  I've told this one to some people, but haven't written it down.  Here goes.

When I was a senior in high school I was really really busy.  I was in a lot of AP classes (like honors classes), I was in ASB (student government), I had a part time job (as the janitor at a dental office, now if you want to talk about glamorous...), and I was on a competitive club cheerleading team that practiced 3 times a week an hour away from my house.  I also attended early morning seminary (a class put on by my church where we studied books of scripture) that started at 5:45 AM.  That's right.  Needless to say I was exhausted pretty much all the time.  Senior Ball was coming up, and I was stressed because I had no time to go look for a dress, and in my 17 year old world that was a catastrophe.

I came home from school one day, two weeks before the dance exhausted as usual.  I walked in the front door to find formal dresses hung all over the living room.  Beautiful fabric, beautiful colors, sparkles and sequins.  As I sat there confused and looking around, my mom explained to me that she knew I was so busy and stressed, so she had gone to the mall that day to find me a dress.  She went to store after store, and looked at dress after dress, and bought 10 or 12 dresses that she thought I would like.  She brought them home and set them up for me so I could try them on and choose one.  She was like my own personal shopper, and my living room was transformed into my very own specialized dress shop.  I was so thankful that my sweet mom took time out of her own busy schedule (which certainly included things that actually mattered) to serve me and help me find a dress.  She could have easily said, "It's just a dress, it doesn't matter.  It's one dance that you will soon forget about."  Instead, she was wise enough to know that even though the dance didn't matter, I mattered.  Even though finding the right dress wasn't important, I was important.

I picked out a dress I loved from the ones she chose, and she returned the others the next day.   Though I do not remember much about that dance, I do remember the love of my sweet mother, and how I felt that love through a dress.

Q&A: I feel so alone

I got this email from a reader a few weeks ago, and thought there might be others out there struggling in similar ways.  It is posted here with her permission.

If Mama Ain't Happy...

When I was growing up, we had a plaque in our home that looked something like this:

I always laughed at how true it was from my perspective as the kid - that if my mom wasn't happy seriously no one in the house was happy.  Her mood affected (and possibly even dictated) our moods.

Now I am the mom.  I have so much power in my home.  I influence for good or for bad.  I teach how to respond.

That is so stressful!  It's so much responsibility!

I have noticed this happening in my home recently.  I've been getting in weird, funky moods for no apparent reason.  And when I'm stressed, it permeates to the entire family.  I've noticed that everyone is more uptight and irritable when I am more uptight and irritable.

And I'm realizing that I HAVE CONTROL.  I can choose to be happy rather than stressed.  I can choose to respond with patience rather than frustration.  And the more I choose to be happy, the more happy the entire mood in the home will become.

So the next time your kids are being feisty with each other, or being grumpy, or responding in anger, take a step back and evaluate your own mood.  There's a good chance your kids are picking up on your mojo and acting out your bad mood.

Choose to be happy.  Choose to pass along your happiness to your family.  You have the power!  Use it for good. 

Guess what?

I had another article published at Family Share!  Go have a read and share it with any moms you know who could use it:

5 Ways Being a Bad Mom Can Make You a Great Mom

Tender Moments

I was able to go to Time Out for Women a few weekends ago, and it was wonderful.  I felt uplifted and encouraged and inspired.  I was able to watch my amazing sister Calee Reed perform, and I couldn't help but think about how happy our mom must be to know that Calee is passing on the legacy of music.  Calee is so talented and I bawled the whole time she was on stage.  She is living her dream!!  It is so beautiful to watch and I am so proud of her!

I also saw Mercy River perform, and was especially touched by a song they did called "Walk You Through the Night."  It's a song about motherhood, and about how although as mothers we do not have all the answers, we can walk our children through dark times and love them perfectly.  I thought not only of my own children but also of my mother.  It has been almost four years since she passed away.  Although my mom was not perfect, she was the perfect mother for me.

I spent the next few days thinking about that song, and thinking about how I could overcome my own insecurities and shortcomings as a mother.  I bought the Mercy River album (duh) and was listening to that song when my 2 year old came into the kitchen with me.  She grabbed my legs and we started to dance.  My heart about exploded with love for this tiny human that is a piece of myself.  I bent down and picked her up in a cradle-style hold and began to rock her back and forth to the song.  My eyes welled with tears as I was filled with gratitude for the opportunity to be her mother.  She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and said,

"Mom?"

I looked down at her sweet face as she continued,

"PUT ME DOWN!!!!"

Moment ruined.  

RUINED.

I put her sassy face back down and she ran out of the kitchen to play.  And that about sums up my experience of motherhood.  Tiny, fleeting moments of tenderness interrupted by crazy, frustrating, not tender at all real life.  And I'm so incredibly thankful for every single part of it.