Amen!

The more I live my life as a mother of four children, the more I realize how clever kids really are these days. There have been plenty of occasions when I have thought I had gotten the best of one of my children, only to find he/she ended up getting the best of me instead. I try to remember being that clever when I was young, but I just don't think I was. Apparently, I need to take "clever lessons" from my kids. At least I'm developing a healthy sense of humor; in fact, I'm learning that few things are greater than laughing right out loud when my kids have out-smarted me. It makes for a great memory.

For example, a couple mornings ago I was perched at the kitchen table, my head dropped over the scriptures as I read while my children busily finished eating their breakfast and got their school bags ready to go. I kept inadvertently lifting my head and glancing around to ensure my children were still in the room and listening (There's been more than one occasion when I've gotten a little too caught up in reading and looked up only to realize my children had disappeared and I was reading to myself--not that I don't need all the scripture reading I can get, but reading to no one but myself seems to mute the point of "family scripture study"). More than once I found myself shushing them and reminding them to be quiet and listen while I read. It seemed pretty obvious they were getting nothing out of our reading that morning, and I was feeling a little bit irritated by their basic apathy and lack of focus.

Now, I admit reading scriptures is probably not at the top of my children's "fun" list, and I also acknowledge that some days, the reading is even more laborious and difficult to understand than others, but that aside, it was still something we committed to do and had been doing for a long time. I found myself thinking they should be more interested than they were (I mean, they could have at least pretended to be listening, couldn't they? ), especially since I made a sincere effort to make the words we read come alive for us by pausing to try to explain what was happening and by occasionally inserting my own thoughts and feelings on our subject matter.

I finally finished the section, which happened to end like this: "Watch, therefore, that ye may be ready. Even so. Amen." Then, thinking to make a point to the kids that they needed to be better listeners, I decided to quiz my eight-year-old son about what we had just read, sure he would have no answer, driving my point right home.

"What was your favorite part of what I just read?" I asked, as if I was naive enough to think he'd actually been listening. I flashed him my famous "I caught you again" grin, and waited for him to falter so I could begin my lecture, but just as I opened my mouth, he surprised me with a confident answer . . .

"The 'amen!'"

I burst into laughter at his all-too-clever response. "At least you're honest," I chuckled, realizing how true his answer had really been. I'm sure the "amen" probably was his favorite part since that meant the section was over!

I sent my kids out the door to school without the lecture, grateful my son had lightened the moment, even if his answer only proved he hadn't been listening to what I read (I'm pretty sure the only word he remembered from the reading was the last word I had said--"amen"). Laughing together was a much better way to end our morning than my harping would have been, and I found myself smiling and chuckling inside throughout the entire day whenever I thought of his quick answer.

So, although my kids will probably always find ways to get the best of me, I can at least honestly say . . . I'm looking forward to it!

D*I*V*O*R*C*E

My parents recently celebrated their 39th wedding anniversary. Calling to wish my dad a "Happy Anniversary," I said, "Thanks for staying married, Dad." It was a simple statement, but I meant it with a depth and sincerity he probably didn't realize.

Chuckling, he responded, "Well, you're welcome."

"Seriously," I said. "I know it wasn't always easy." Growing up as the middle of five children (who seemed to have a knack for finding trouble), I remember moments of realizing marriage and parenthood were roles that were probably not all that easy. I saw the stress and tension my parents faced at times, and I remember wondering if they ever thought about not staying together. In a world where divorce touches so many lives, I can't help but wonder how close it came to hitting my own home, and I can't help but feel extreme gratitude that my parents had a good marriage and it was never something I had to deal with.

It must be a natural thing for kids to think about because, right out of the blue last night, my son made a comment that blew me away. In an effort to have a private conversation about a surprise vacation, we shooed the kids out of the bedroom and asked them to give us a minute to talk. My eight-year-old son said, "Why do you need us to leave?"

"Because we need to talk about something that's just between us," I answered.

"Are you getting a divorce?" he asked.

I couldn't believe he would even think such a thing! "No!" I said. "Why in the world would you think that? Do we act like we might get a divorce?" I laughed as I asked the question, finding it funny that my son would even mention that word, especially since my husband and I were sitting on our bed, snuggled up against the headboard smiling and laughing, his arms around me.

"I don't know," he said. And although a slight grin appeared as he spoke, his answer disturbed me. How could he not know that his dad and I had never even thought of the word divorce, that we had a solid, good marriage, that we loved and adored each other, and that we were committed to each other for forever? My mind began racing back through the previous weeks and months, trying to pinpoint anything that might have led to my son's concerns, but nothing came to mind. Although life is full of ups and downs, one constant source of happiness and peace is our marriage (I'm fortunate enough to be married to a truly wonderful man), and I thought for sure my children felt and knew that. I began retracing our daily lives, reviewing all the things Dan and and I do for each other, or the ways in which we have shown our love for each other through service or kind words or hugs or kisses, and I was left to wonder if my children were paying attention, or if these times were enough. Feeling a little sick inside, I realized how important it is to me for my children to feel completely secure about our marriage and their family situation.

When I finally got over my panic, I came to the conclusion that perhaps divorce has become such a common occurrence, it's something most children think about (at least on some level) at one time or another. I know I did as a child, even though my parents were committed to each other and stayed together. Life is not easy, especially family life. Families today are under more stress and pressure than ever before; they are dealing with social, spiritual, physical and political issues never before faced, and as a result, some marriages and families are falling victim to it all, often resulting in broken marriages. I can't help but think it's a silent fear that crosses most children's minds as they begin to grow up and sense the stress their parents are under.

So, keeping this in mind, I've decided to 1-thank my parents more often for staying together, and 2-reassure my own children more often by the way I serve, talk to, and act around my husband. I know many good people and wonderful families who have struggled with this difficult issue, and my heart goes out to them.

So, tonight I think I'll hug my husband even tighter . . . and thank him again for putting up with such an imperfect mother and wife. And from now on, when I feel the urge to wrap my arms around him and tell him how much I love and appreciate him, I'll make sure the kids are watching.:)

My Mother, the Nag

They say the first step in overcoming a bad habit is admitting you have a problem. So here goes.

My name is Lori Conger, and I am a nag.

There. I said it. I completely admit it, and just like most bad habits people are addicted to, I hate it! I have a dream of one day becoming completely nag-free, but as for now, without even realizing it, I nag constantly!

And, like all addictions people have, my biggest fear is passing this annoying trait on to my children. I mean, do they stand a chance of being a normal parent some day, one that is patient and wise? I doubt it, and at this point, all I can think is, My poor grandchildren!!

It's not that I don't try to encourage my children without nagging; it's just that I seem to like immediate results, and experience has shown me that nagging helps produce them. As soon as I tell my children I'm going to stop nagging, the urge to do so becomes even stronger.

Last week I sat my children down one by one, showed each of them a list of responsibilities I had printed out for them, and discussed my expectations. I then looked each child in the eyes and said, "Now, I'm not going to nag you about these things (I'm sure my children were thinking, yeah, right!). These are responsibilities I expect you to do without being asked. And when you have successfully accomplished each responsibility for ten days, you earn a treat. It's completely up to you whether you earn your treat or not. It's your choice." Then I sent them on their way, sure my little talk would produce happy, self-driven children who would accomplish their obligations without prompting or nagging.

Ha! I have to laugh at my naivety sometimes. Not 24 hours had gone by until I was nearly bursting at the seams wanting, to "remind" my eight-year-old son that all the time he was wasting was really time he should have been spending checking off his list of responsibilities. I had to nearly bite my tongue completely off in an effort to keep my mouth shut.

Finally, I broke down. "Okay," I said to my son, "I know I said I wouldn't nag, but I just have to say that you're going to be so sad when your sister gets rewarded and you don't, so you might want to check out your list."

Ugh! That's exactly what I didn't want to do. Why can't I be patient and just let time teach a lesson? It's obvious I have a serious nagging problem. So this week, I decided to dedicate this post to my children, and in an effort to sympathize with them, I wrote this poem. Here's to all children with mothers who are addicted to nagging.

My Mother, the Nag

My mother is a nag, you know.
She just can't help herself.
From, "Have you cleaned up all your stuff?"
To "Put that on the shelf."

She reminds me of my homework
As soon as I hit the door.
Before I hang my backpack up
She tells me three times more.

"Practice your piano.
Make your bed and do your chores.
And while you're at it, please, please try
To find your bedroom floor."

I roll my eyes and plug my ears
As I begin to moan.
Just then I hear a ringing sound,
And Mom shouts, "Get the phone!"

Trying to distract her,
I ask if I can play.
She loads my arms with laundry
And says, "Go--put away!"

"Take a shower. Brush your teeth,
And don't forget to floss."
Sometimes I wish my mother
Wasn't such a constant boss!

I know she doesn't mean to;
In fact, she says she wants to quit,
So I told her I'd remind her,
But that hasn't helped a bit.

It seems she just can't help it
No matter how she tries,
And ignoring all her promptings
Hasn't proven to be wise.

So, if your mother happens
To be something of a nag,
All I can say is, "Sorry
That your life is such a drag."

And as for me, I have to say,
Although it isn't fair
I've decided to tell God about it
In fervent, pleading prayer.

Dad always says if I have faith
My wishes can come true,
Though how God's gonna change Mother
I haven't got a clue!

And though I don't feel lucky,
I just have to say
My biggest fear is growing up
To be a nag someday!!

The Stronger Half of My Influence

Ever wonder if your children are really catching on to what you are trying to teach them? I mean, I never cease to be amazed at how quickly they learn to imitate my negative behaviors and attitudes, or those of others, but when it comes to passing on positive influences, it often seems they aren't paying attention. It's like they have a radar for internalizing all the "bad stuff" thrown at them in a day, and that radar seems to pass over the important, character-building lessons to be learned.


Case in point. I will never forget the time when my now 10-year-old was only two. I had been a bit stressed out, trying to deal with a move and prepare for a new baby that was coming soon. Instead of handling her whining and fits with patience and composure, I had begun to say, "Hallee, get a grip!" (I'm pretty sure you won't find that technique in any parenting manuals).


One day, when I was particularly stressed about something, I found myself pacing around our apartment, mumbling under my breath, accomplishing nothing productive. My young child peeked her head around the corner, and said (in exactly the same tone of voice I had often used), "Mom, get a grip!"


Now, I'll admit it was actually a pretty effective way of getting my attention and reminding me to pull myself together, but it's not exactly the type of parenting behavior I hoped to pass on.


Then there's the time I was having a bad day when something happened that I decided was "the last straw." Forgetting about self-constraint, I immediately screamed, "Aaaaahhhh!!!," stomped to my bedroom, slammed the door, and told everyone who tried to find out what my problem was to, "Go away!" (If there is one thing I've perfected in adulthood, it's definitely fit-throwing). My whole march to the bedroom, I kept hearing that little voice inside my head telling me to model a better way to deal with frustration and anger, but at that moment, I was tired of the little voice in my head, so I ignored it and went about throwing my tantrum.


It wasn't until a few days later I wished I had listened to that voice of wisdom. My son got frustrated, threw his homework on the floor, stomped to his bedroom, slammed the door, and told everyone to leave him alone. When he finally settled down enough to talk about his feelings, I began my sermon on how to deal with feelings of frustration and anger in more appropriate ways. That's when he looked at me and said, "But Mom, that's what you did when you were mad the other day." Somehow my speech suddenly seemed a bit ineffective and hypocritical. He was right. I had set a poor example, and he had picked right up on it. When I thought about it later, I wondered why he hadn't picked up on all the other times I had been stressed or frustrated and had handled myself with some degree of composure. It's like his radar hadn't been turned on all those other times, but as soon as I lost my edge, he was right there to copy my poor behavior.


I mean, seriously!! I can't do it right ALL THE TIME, but I was hoping if I could get things right more than half the time, the stronger half would win. That makes sense, doesn't' it? Apparently not.


The holidays this year found us less than perfectly happy. I was so excited to spend all day every day with my children, but by the end of the first week, I was counting the days until school started. My children fought like cats and dogs. Determined to remain patient and calm, I came up with inventive strategies for distracting them and trying to help them get along. Nothing seemed to work. The weeks turned into a month. Our family nights were focused on kindness, family love, thinking of others more than ourselves, and every other topic my husband and I felt we all lacked. No change. To say the least, I was beginning to be discouraged.


Then, just the other day, while picking up in my girls' room, I found a little sticky note with my oldest daughter's handwriting. It only held a few words, but those words made my entire day. On this sticky note, she had written her goals for the upcoming year, and by golly, a few of them even included some way to love her family more.

I sat down on the bed, and with tears in my eyes, took a deep breath. I found myself thinking, See? They are paying attention. They are picking up on some of the positive ways you are trying to influence them. It's not all in vain. Being a strong believer in goal-setting, I often write my goals and stick them somewhere I will see often, and apparently, my daughter has caught on to this practice. It's such a simple thing, but it reminded me to never fool myself into thinking my influence (good or bad) isn't making a difference. Sometimes our imprint as parents may be so subtle it takes a while for our children to internalize it and apply it in their lives, but the truth is, that without even realizing it themselves, our children are soaking it all up, and I believe that one day, when they need it most, it will all come back to them.


So, although I've decided to try minimizing my tantrums to when my children aren't around (which, by the way, is never, since I have young children at home), I'm also hoping to remind myself regularly that my children are learning some of my good habits as well. And maybe if I'm lucky, that stronger half of my influence will eventually win. Atleast I hope so.

If I Had My Life to Live Over . . .

A commercial on television caught my attention the other day. It's a very simple commercial with a powerful message. It starts with a man reading a letter to himself. In this letter he tells himself how much he would like to quite smoking and how he wished he had never started. He explains that now he is having a baby, his need to quit is even greater. Then, with tears in his eyes, he ends the ad by saying, "From, Me," or something like that.

After seeing the commercial aired a couple of times, I found myself thinking, Wow, what would I say if I could write a letter to myself? Smoking isn't an issue, but nagging at my kids certainly is, as well as numerous other flaws I have in regards to motherhood. Then, I found this article I have saved for many years by Erma Bombeck that has a similar message. It reads:

"Someone asked me the other day, if I had my life to live over, would I change anything?

"No, I answered, but then I began to think . . .

"If I had my life to live over, I would have talked less and listened more.

"I would have invited friends over to dinner, even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

"I would have eaten popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

"I would have taken time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

"I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

"I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

"I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

"I would have cried and laughed less while watching television--and more while watching life.

"I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

"I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.

"I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

"Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was my only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

"When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, 'Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.'

"There would have been more I love yous . . .more I'm sorrys. . . but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute . . .look at it and really see it . . . live it . . .and never give it back."

Isn't that awesome?

As a very busy mother, wife and homemaker, I often try to stop and consider how I'll feel when it's all said and done, when my kids are grown and out of the house, and all I have left are memories of our time together. My biggest goal is to have no regrets. Now, of course that doesn't mean I will do it all perfectly; it just means, I will never let life control me, that I will be the one who chooses how my time is spent and that I will choose right most of the time. I decided a few years ago, at a time when it seemed motherhood was getting the best of me, to constantly keep this theme in mind, and to start NOW, while my children are still young and I have a chance to work on my weaknesses and make changes. I mean, doesn't that make more sense than waiting until they're gone?

So, if I were to write a letter to myself, or if, starting from this moment, I had my life to live over, this is what I would say:

"Dear Me,

Laugh more, and cry less.

When your children are upset and calling you every bad name they can think of, like 'dummyhead' and 'big fat jerk' and 'meanest mom in the world,' simply smile, hug them, and tell them you love them, keeping in mind it could always be worse, and probably will be some day.

Stop nagging--your children don't listen when you do anyway.

Instead of sending your children off to do chores, work beside them so they not only learn how to do it right, but they learn to enjoy it.

Save yourself a lot of grief and DO NOT sign your children up for piano lessons! (just kidding--it will be worth it some day, right?)

Instead of showering your children with rules and expectations, shower them with kindness and respect.

Remember to love them, hug them, kiss them, talk with them, listen to them, and spend TIME with them every day because they will be gone before you know it, and you never want to look back and say, 'If only . . .'

Love,
Me"

I've decided if I can simply write myself a letter like this, say on an annual basis, perhaps I really will be able to live with few regrets. Perhaps I can soak up all the good in motherhood and survive the bad with few battle scars if I simply change my perspective regularly. Perhaps I can even become a glimmer of the mother I've always hoped to be, so that one day, if someone asks me what I would change if I had to live my life over, I can say with calm assurance, "Nothing." Or I can write a letter to myself that says something like,

"Dear Me,

Good job!"

My Good Fortune

It's that wonderful time of year again--you know, the time of year when we get to look back on the mistakes of last year and determine to get our rears in gear for the next 365 days, hoping next January we will feel like new people. I often find myself feeling a bit overwhelmed and under qualified as I sit down to write goals for the upcoming year. As December came upon me this year, I actually felt anxious to take some time to reevaluate my life and set some simple benchmarks to help me prioritize my responsibilities better.

Then I had two surgeries in less than two weeks and Christmas and New Year's to plan, and my longing for some peaceful time to reflect and look to the future ended up taking a back seat. Finally, this past week, when my kids went back to school, I decided I couldn't put it off any longer; I mean, it's really quite ineffective to set New Year's Resolutions in May, right? I thought of the business of the upcoming months and realized if I didn't take time right now, it would probably be at least May when I did get around to it.

With determination and fervor, I marched to the junk drawer to find a pen and pad of paper to begin my quest. As I began rummaging through my messy drawer, hoping to find a pen that actually worked (yes, the thought crossed my mind that perhaps my goals should include becoming more organized), I ran across a small folded strip of paper. Of course, there were lots of scraps of wrinkled, folded paper askew in my draw, but for some reason, I felt intrigued to unfold it and see what it was; in fact, I felt a rush of excitement because this paper was just the right size to be a fortune from a fortune cookie, and as crazy as life had been at my house the past few months, I felt I could really use some good fortune.

I opened the paper, wondering to myself what amazing fortune it must have held for me to have actually hung on to it, since I tend to be the "throw everything that isn't absolutely necessary away" type. I held the paper closer so I could see the small words . . . then I took a deep breath, set it on the counter, and with tears in my eyes and an even greater resolve, I found a pen and paper and set out to accomplish my original task. This is what my fortune read:

"This year your highest priority will be your family."

I must admit I don't remember when I originally got the fortune, and I certainly don't remember stashing it in my junk drawer, but none of that mattered as I read those words that morning in my kitchen. All that mattered is that I had read them at just the right moment, at a time when I was about to sit down and map out my year, trying to figure out how to balance all the roles I play in my life. And I found myself feeling profoundly grateful I had had to rummage through my drawer for a pen, for those words were spoken to me at the time I needed them most.

Coincidence?

I don't think I believe in coincidence. I had been praying for divine guidance as I set about making goals for this upcoming year, hoping to become better at the things that mattered most, mainly my role as wife and mother, and I felt this small fortune was God's reminder to set goals that helped me accomplish that. I have found it very easy to get caught up in the "thick of thin things," working tirelessly to make sure I fulfilled my obligations to others and never let them down, when sometimes in the process of trying to be everything for everybody else, my own family was left wanting.

When the holidays rolled around this past year I was determined to soak up the time with my children, to set aside some of my other responsibilities and simply enjoy my kids. It was wonderful (exhausting, frustrating at times, trying, but wonderful)! We played games, watched movies, built snowmen, went sledding, baked cookies, and many other activities, and although I was absolutely exhausted when it was all over, I was also happier than ever. I was reminded, once again, that I truly only have these kids for a short time--before I know it, they will be grown up and out of my home, and the last thing I want is to be left wishing I had spent more time with them, that we had laughed more, hugged more, and enjoyed each other more.

So this year, thanks to a simple reminder from a fortune cookie, my highest priority will be my family . . .

. . .I have a feeling, it will be my best year yet!

Princesses, Tutu's, and Pink Nail Polish--How Far Do We Let This Go?

My three-year-old aspires to be a princess some day. This same child begs me to wear a skirt or princess dress every day, no matter what we are doing or where we are going. This child wants only one thing for Christmas--a microphone--to be able to sing with Hannah Montana and Taylor Swift, and when asked to cut out some pictures for preschool of appreciated items, this child chose bubble gum and pink, fluffy tutu's. When I pull out fingernail polish or make-up, especially lip stick, this child begs me for it incessantly.


I'm sure this all sounds perfectly normal for those of you who have raised little girls who are enamored with "girl stuff" and princesses, but to be perfectly honest, I'm starting to get a little concerned. I mean, it's not that I have anything against being a little fanatical about princesses; it's just that my three-year-old is . . .




. . . a boy!





It all seemed kinda cute at first. Whenever we would ask him his favorite color, he'd say "pink." Whenever his older sister played dress-up, he would participate. Whenever we'd paint our toenails, his would appear, and we figured since no one really saw them, what's the big deal? When he became addicted to watching Hannah Montana, I thought it was an interesting movie choice for a little boy, but hey, boys are rock stars, too, right? But now that he insists on wearing a fluffy skirt every day and gets upset when I tell him boys aren't princesses, it's starting to concern me just a little. I mean, how far should we let this go?


Finally, the other day when he was talking about his new wardrobe, I felt a need to intervene. "Son," I started.


"My name isn't 'Son,'" he corrected me with a little giggle.


Oh boy, we weren't off to a great start. I persisted anyway. "Boys grow up to be princes, not princesses."



His eyebrows puckered as he looked up at me as if to say, "What's a prince anyway?".


Not wanting to crush his wonderfully innocent idea of the world in one fatal blow, I proceeded carefully. "Only girls grow up to be princesses. You're a boy. In fact, you're a strong, handsome little boy."


My husband, eaves dropping on our little conversation, intervened at this point. "Oh forget it, Lori."


I looked back at him with wide eyes, as if to encourage support. I noticed an awful, dreadful fear in my heart at this point, and I began to wonder at what point we should stop this nonsense and put away anything to do with princesses.


Our little guy, who was still thinking over my comment about princes, now asked, "Only Cinderella is a princess?"


"Exactly!" I said.



"And Snow White?"


"Yes, yes, and Snow White."


At this, he thought about it all for a moment, and just when I was getting my hopes up that he was actually beginning to understand the concept, he said, "Well, when I get bigger and turn into a princess, then can I wear a dress?"


Okay, so he wasn't catching on.


What to do now. It's obvious a frank discussion is not the answer. So, at this point, i'm reverting to "Plan B." We've "lost" Hannah Montana, and the dress-up clothes have somehow disappeared as well. I told my older son to please start spending more time with this little guy, and I encouraged our four-year-old daughter to please spend less time with him. I can't say I think it will solve our little issue in a hurry, but a mom has to start somewhere!



Wish me luck!