Early Morning Snuggles

Rousing from a peaceful night's sleep the other morning, I awoke to find my young daughter standing next to my bed staring at me. A quick glance at the clock told me my other children were probably still sleeping and that I needn't get up for a few more minutes.

"What do you need?" I yawned.

"Can I get in with you for a few minutes?"

How could I resist? Much to my husband's chagrin I love snuggling in bed with my children every now and again, and this seemed like the perfect time. I opened the sheets and she climbed over me, settling in right beside me. We lay there for a few moments, and then I reached over and pulled her close to me, soaking up the smile that spread across her sweet little face.

"Can we play our game, Mommy?" she asked.

Although she didn't specify, I knew exactly what she was referring to. I didn't much feel like playing a game, hoping to simply lie in bed and rest for my remaining few minutes of peace, knowing that soon three more kids would appear and "life" would begin in one hectic swoop, but it seems that whenever I am faced with a decision to make time for one of my children or selfishly follow my own agenda I suddenly glimpse them growing up and not wanting to spend time with me, and I immediately agree to take advantage of the time I still have with them. I agreed to play the game, and she began.

"I love someone in this room who . . .has brown hair." I rolled over to play along and say my part, which is, "Me?" and then I tickle her and kiss her cheek before taking a turn. But she stopped me before I could continue, saying, "Wasn't your hair red the last time we played this game?" I giggled inside. I had recently colored my hair and it was darker than last time. Four-year-olds are so perceptive, I thought.

Then it was my turn. "I love someone in this room who . . .loves to ride her purple bike."

"Mom, Nate gave me his bike and now I ride it. It's blue and yellow."

"Oh, well, I like the purple one better. Just say your part." This game wasn't going as well as it normally did. She said her part and started a new series.

"I love someone in this room who . . .hmm . . . has a nose," she finally managed.

"Honey, everyone has a nose," I said. "Can't you think of something else?" So much for her sharp perception.

"Oh yea. I love someone in this room who . . . has blue eyes."

My eyes aren't blue, I thought. Should I say something? Probably not, but I couldn't resist. "Regyn, my eyes are green."

"Oh. Okay, I love someone in this room who has green eyes."

"Me?" I asked as incredulously as ever before tickling her and planting a kiss on her cheek?

"Yes!" she said with as much enthusiasm.

And so the game went along for a few more minutes until, just as predicted, three more faces showed up telling me they were hungry. I squeezed Regyn one more time before rolling out of bed to start breakfast, still chuckling inside at how our little game had gone. I couldn't help but think as I plugged in the frying pan that it was the perfect start to my day, and I wondered to myself, Will Regyn remember these moments when she gets older? Will the memories of snuggles and tickles and giggles and love remain stronger than the memories of cross words and harsh discipline?

I certainly hope so, but to improve the chances, I hope to store up a lot more memories of early morning snuggle games, taking turns professing our love to each other, rather than memories of nagging and yelling and being frustrated with each other. I sometimes fast forward in my mind to an interview someone has with my children when they are grown where the interviewer asks about their mother, and I fear their answer will be something like, "My mother loved to nag. I can still hear her nagging voice today." AAHH!! Oh, how I hope their answer will be something more like, "My mother loved us. She always told us she loved us."

I guess that means lots more early morning snuggle games. I can't wait!

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

My friend was telling me the other day about a commercial she saw that made her chuckle so hard she nearly fell off her treadmill. The familiar Christmas tune, "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" was playing while a mother danced through a store, throwing school supplies in a cart.

How telling!

I have to admit the commencement of school this year snuck right up on me. In fact, last night I drew in a quick breath and panicked just a bit, quickly gathering my children to begin the bedtime process as I said, "You've got to get to bed early tonight. You've got school in the morning."

"I do?" came the reply. So much for preparing my children for the abrupt change in schedules.

And although we had a wonderful summer together, I must admit I was giggling with glee inside this morning when I awoke, looking forward to the first day in three months when my children won't ask me what they can do because they are bored. They are anxiously engaged in a good cause, and I don't have to do anything, I thought to myself. Oh, how I love school!

The truth is, the years of sending all four of my children out the door to catch the bus are approaching faster than I'd really like them to. I know there will come a day when I'll look back on these days and realize they were some of the best days of my life.

BUT until then . . .

I can't seem to get that Christmas song out of my head. "It's the most wonderful time of the year!"

Grandmothers

My maternal grandmother is dying. Even as I write that, I can hardly believe it's true. I have been blessed in my life to have known and associated closely with all of my grandparents. Both of my dad's parents, as well as my mom's, are still alive, so this will be the first grandparent I lose. Although I know she is old (84) and she's been in a nursing home for the past six months or so, and she hasn't really been herself in years (she's suffered from dimentia), it is difficult to think of losing her.

She's a remarkable little woman (only 4' 10" tall) who played an important role in my life as I was growing up. Living right across the field from her, I would visit every day. I will never forget the puffy purple coat she wore while she drove through town in her little white truck, straining to see over the steering wheel, or seeing her her in her recliner, focused on a crossword puzzle. I'd ask her what she was doing, and she'd always say, "Not much of anything. How 'bout you?" Or I'd ask her how she was doing, and she'd always say, "Gettin a long just fine." I will sure miss hearing her say those familiar words.

Since she's been on my mind so much, I decided to write a few thoughts about grandmothers.

Grandmothers are . . .

Cookies when mom says "no,"
Surprise appearances at baseball games,
A break from chores, and
Someone to spoil you when no one else will.

Grandmothers are . . .
Warm, delicious meals,
A drive home at midnight when you decide you don't really want to spend the night,
A soft hug, and
Homemade doilies.

Grandmothers are . . .
Picnics at the park,
An unlimited supply of sweets,
A real education about life, and
Chocolate milk.

Grandmothers are . . .
Mothers made nicer,
A time-out from rules and consequences,
A breath of fresh air, and
God's way of making life a whole lot sweeter.

Whatever life holds for me, I sure hope I get to live long enough to be a grandmother!

Ways to Keep Your Cool:1-3

I'm not sure if it was what you might term "fate" that I happened to find a long lost parenting article I printed out a year and a half ago and then forgot about, but the other day, right out of the blue, I found an article entitled "Seven Ways to Keep Your Cool." Sounds a little fishy, doesn't it? Especially considering the fact that lately, as soon as my husband walks through the threshold from work, I've riddled him with how trying one of my children has been and how difficult it has been to remain the calm, loving parent I'm working to become. So, either my husband is trying to offer helpful hints, or God is answering my prayers with less subtle messages in hopes I'll finally catch on. Either way, I thought I'd share a couple of these ideas that I think are from the Good Housekeeping magazine last year.



1- Know When You're Being Baited

We all have triggers--certain words that set us off or shut us down--and no one knows that better than our kids. So seal your lips whenever you hear these classic calls to arms: "I hate you!" "You're stupid!" And the real killer, "I wish I had a different mother."



Okay, seriously, the more I think about it, this paper must have fallen from heaven because I hear each of these phrases numerous times nearly every day, and as hard as I try to ignore them, thinking "this is simply kid-typical behavior," I struggle. What I really want to do is run into my bedroom crying. I know they're just kids and they don't mean it, but that information does not seem to make their words any less painful. Am I alone here? Oh well, I guess I'm going to have to start repeating in my mind the words, "you're just being baited, you're just being baited." Maybe that will work.



2-Don't Mess With Messy Bedrooms

Having their own space is essential to kids becoming separate individuals--and if it's "their" room, they can keep it the way they want (except maybe a twice-yearly cleansing for hygiene's sake). Whenever you look at their lair and feel a hissy fit coming on, go clean your own room instead.



A hissy fit? Have these guys been peeking in my windows? I understand the concept of children having their own space--I really do--but when a room becomes so messy it's dangerous, should we not intervene? Or when we can't find anything anymore due to the piles of clothes and toys and objects shoved under the beds? I can't help but think there's a certain limit to this advice, but then again, maybe that's why I needed to read it.



3-Give Up Your Need to Know How They Feel

You can ask, but they usually won't tell--and then you get mad and risk a blowup. Yelling is particularly pointless in this situation, since most of the time kids simply don't how how they feel (neither do most adults). So inquire about their feelings, help them learn to express themselves. But let go of your need to make sure they feel the "right" way, which is usually nothing more than the way you think they should.



Who writes this stuff? (jk) Honestly, lately I haven't wanted to know how my kids really feel. Their actions have said enough. What I struggle with is wanting them to know how I feel, and I'm pretty sure they're getting tired of that.



If you're dying to know what 4-7 are on the list, just tune in next week. For now, I'm just trying to work on 1-3. I have a feeling one of these days I'm going to give up on trying to keep my cool, and enjoy a good, long fit. I figure as long as the kids are gone to school while it happens, I'm not in the red. Only 22 more days!

What I'll Miss

In an effort to really "soak up" every moment with my children this summer, I have made a specific effort to mentally take in every situation--good and bad--hoping I won't look back one day and wish I had lived in the moment more. Without realizing it, I found myself mentally categorizing every scenario, task, and experience into two different groups: "What I'll Miss," and "What I Won't Miss" about mothering young children. Here are a few things I came up with.

Things I Will Miss:

Holding a sleeping child
Watching a sleeping child (they are so innocent and sweet when they're asleep)
That a trip to the park makes their whole day
That I can tickle a smile out of a grumpy child
That a kiss makes everything better
Speaking of kisses--an endless supply of hugs and kisses available at any time (only works with little kids)
Tiny arms wrapped tightly around my neck
Kids on my lap, snuggling and reading a story together
Uninhibited singing by my little ones
Everyone waking up with a smile
Small expectations (pb&j for lunch every day, mac & cheese if we really splurge)

Things I Won't Miss:

Fruit snack wrappers
Whining
Playdough
Car seats
Sippy Cups
Potty Training
6:00 a.m. wake up calls (which consist of my two-year-old asking for a movie and chocolate milk)
Screaming fits
Shutting the front door at least 15 times a day because a child has gone in or out and left it open

I sat in my kitchen the other night chuckling under my breath. My husband and I were working together to get dinner ready, trying to have a conversation, while the rest of the house held total chaos. Kids were screaming, crying, whining, pounding on doors, and more. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought I had more than four kids! As I strained again to hear what my husband was saying, a picture passed through my mind of what our home must look like to an outsider, and I couldn't suppress a small giggle (I've come a long way--it's usually tears I can't suppress). Just then, a thought ran through my mind, adding another bullet to my "won't miss" list.

I'm sure not going to miss this when the kids are grown and gone.

But as soon as I thought it, I immediately regretted it, because the truth is, I think I'll miss pretty much everything about my children being home--even the chaos. I can totally picture in my mind the day I get up to a quiet home, do my daily routine without interruption or noise, and go to bed with the same deafening silence (excepting small talk with my sweetheart, of course). And I'm willing to bet there will be days when I wish I could go back to a simpler, louder, crazier time, because something tells me that even though there are many days I want to run away and hide, the truth is, when it's all said and done, I have a feeling I'll look back on these days and think they were the best days of my life.

So, for now, I think I'll condense my lists into one big one: "What I'll Miss." That way, if I do ever find myself missing this stage of life, I can read my list and find comfort in the fact that at least I didn't take it for granted.

Well, better go--the front door is open again!:)

To My Mother

Forgive me for being so personal, but I've decided to dedicate this week's post to my mother.

Most of my earliest memories revolve around the woman I call mom. From sneaking chocolate chips with my older sister in our farm house in Raymond, ID and getting caught, to riding my bike up to the corner service station in Cokeville to chat with my mom while she helped my Grandpa with his books, sharing a snickers bar and soda pop, to learning how to sew in our basement, carefully unpicking imperfect seams, my mother was at the center of my life.

Despite lots of moaning and groaning, my mother was determined in our family scripture study each morning, gathering us in the living room to take turns reading from the Book of Mormon before she sent us on our way to school. She always hugged and kissed us and professed her love to us before we left, and I remember being grateful I knew my mom loved me.

When I entered jr. high, I was privileged to play volleyball with my mother as the coach. She was spirited, dedicated, and highly successful. Everyone loved her signature cheer leading jump after great plays, and it never got past me that she rooted for every underdog and made each one feel valuable. We were undefeated my whole jr. high career, but even better than that was playing for the best jr. high coach around and my biggest fan, too--my mother.

High school and college came and went, my parents supporting every athletic event and extra-curricular activity possible, sometimes traveling hundreds of miles to be there. They supported me through a mission and the transition that came afterwards. And when I became a mother myself, my mother was right outside the curtain, waiting to help me begin this incredible, daunting journey.

When life has been hard and I've needed careful advice or sometimes even just a slight change in perspective, my mother has said just the right thing to help me get back on my feet again. She taught me how to work, to read, to pray, to love--the most important things I do each day as a mother to my own four children.

As I have grown older, I have learned an important truth--that you never outgrow your need for a mother. A mother's work is never done, even when her children are grown and gone, and she is never tossed aside like clothes and shoes that we've outgrown or that have gone out of style. Moms never go out of style.

I've also noticed mothers never outgrow challenges either. My mom still has her share of hurdles to cross, one being the challenge of hearing loss, but still she manages to be a mother, a grandmother, a fantastic children's librarian, a wife and a friend. She's overworked and under appreciated, as most mothers are, but she still keeps plugging along because, well, that's what mothers do.

So today I just want to say "thanks" to a remarkably talented woman who has influenced my life in more ways than she could know. And I hope that somehow she knows how much I love and appreciate her, but chances are, she'll go to bed tonight like she does most nights, wondering if she's making a difference at all, thinking back to all the ways she wants to be better, rather than all the ways she's already great, because mothers have a tendency to do that.

So, just for today, I want her to know she's fabulous and I'm so glad she's my mother.

Talk about Multi-Tasking!

Have you ever wondered if you were taking the multi-tasking idea a little too far? I mean, it's pretty much a mandatory trait these days as a mom to be able to talk on the phone, pay the bills, and tie a shoelace all at the same time, right? In this fast-paced world, if we don't become adept at doing at least two things at a time, we will simply find ourselves further and further behind.

So, where do you draw the line?

I've decided the car is one place. I no longer try to have a phone conversation, change the radio station, and keep the car between the white and yellow lines, all while trying to resolve some conflict in the back seat, as the issue of safety comes into play.

I've also tried to limit my multi-tasking while at church. It just didn't seem appropriate to be planning my week's menus, coloring a hand-out for my primary class, and painting my fingernails (j.k. I've never actually done all of this while at church, but I have thought about what I could be doing while I'm just sitting there--I'm telling you, multi-tasking can be addicting to the point you don't know how to relax and enjoy the moment), while I listened less-than-attentively to the speakers. Yes, church is definitely one place I allow myself to let all my other responsibilities go and just take in the real purpose of being there.

The place I continue to struggle is in my home. I almost feel lazy if I'm not trying to complete a number of tasks all at once. If I'm sitting down to enjoy a good book, I have to get up every so often to change laundry or clean a bathroom or something so I don't feel like I am wasting time. Even when I watch television (which is rarely), I have a book to read or some little project to do at commercials. Otherwise, I would feel like I was using my time poorly. I put an earpiece in while I talk to my sisters in the mornings so my hands can be free to get work done, and I find myself responding to e-mails and writing blogs while juggling dinner. I have to wonder if the pioneers had the same phobia. Somehow, I doubt it. I have a feeling they were content enough with completing one chore at a time, putting one foot in front of the other, not feeling a need to do everything all at once.

Yes, I'm pretty sure I have become addicted to multi-tasking to the point of insanity. How can I be so sure? Well, let me just say that my husband walked in to the bathroom the other night and caught me brushing two of my children's teeth at the same time--one with one hand, the other with the other hand (I must say the child's teeth I was brushing with my right hand ended up with cleaner teeth than the one's with my left; however, I am sure that with more practice, I can build up the coordination in my left hand and be brushing teeth in record time!). This is quite impressive as it is, BUT the part that takes it to the next level of multi-tasking insanity is that I was accomplishing this task while going to the bathroom!!

Talk about multi-tasking! At least I spared you the pictures!