Important... or Not

September Writing Challenge - Prompt #s 18 & 27:*

Important/Not Important

I often express that parenting feels like a big experiment. We just try our best and see what happens. Everyone does it so differently, too, so it's easy to see what others are doing and wonder if you're getting it wrong. I often have to remember that it's not always a matter of right or wrong. Sometimes we just do it differently, and that's okay! I'm responsible for my circus, and my monkeys. In the experimental way that Scotty and I choose to parent, here are some things that have become important and not important in the way we are raising our kids:

(Prepare yourself, you may be horrified!)

Gratitude = Important

Important:

Being mindful of other people

Giving a good effort

Mental health

Thanking people and being grateful for what you have 

Honoring commitments/being reliable/doing your part

Developing good character

Being on time

Budgeting

Learning to pray about things and recognize and act by the Spirit

Adapting when things don't go the way you expect

Family trips & activities

Eating breakfast 

Doing your own laundry

Positive body image 

Pool/water safety 

Being comfortable coming to Mom & Dad

Keeping things "15 minutes from clean" 

Obeying laws pertaining to drivers licenses  

Pronouncing words correctly 

Being comfortable owning your mistakes 

Trying the Disneyland ride once per visit even though you hated it last time because you might like it now that you're older (Dad's rule) 

 

Not Important:

Straight A's

Perfect attendance

Making beds

Walls 

Mating socks

Taking off shoes in the house

Sports

Earning college credit

Having the latest and greatest of everything

Separating light and dark laundry

Drinking your cereal milk 

Keeping the house pristine ("15 minutes from clean" is my standard as stated above) 

Having styled hair (I'd be happy if you brushed it, though) 

Mixed Play Doh

Not eating before the prayer has been said 

Finishing chores before you can play 

Drinking your cereal milk = Not Important

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Some of the things on my "not important" list used to be "important," but over time, I've made adjustments. "Choosing your battles" is no joke! Just because it's on the "important" list doesn't mean we're good at it (but we'd like to be!) And some things that aren't important in our family could probably use an explanation. For example, even though sports are not "important" to us, if our children want to play a sport, we'll support them. It's just not a priority for us as parents to have our children participate in sports. In fact, we have really loved having our Saturdays free to do family activities. Also, our kids get so few social invitations that when someone asks one of our children to play, we will drop everything to let it happen. There are exceptions, but most of the time, if their chores aren't done, oh well! Please go play! The dishes will still be here when you get back. I'll report back in twenty years and let you know if that was a bad choice. In the meantime, the experiment continues!

*I didn't realize I had added both of these prompts to my list until I was looking over it a few days ago. I also have "priority" and "focus" on the list, so maybe that's a sign I need to realign my values. 

Show Me the Money

When we started our family, we wanted to put some things into place to help our kids learn about money. This is kind of a hard thing because you have to choose what you expect your kids to pay for, and what the family economy will be like. There are a lot of opinions about things like whether kids should have jobs in high school and whether they should be given allowance. 

When I was in school for my Marriage and Family Relations degree, this was a topic that came up in a few different courses. The research varies, so suffice it to say, there are a lot of different ways to handle money in a family, and various methods have good outcomes. I know a family that didn't allow their kids to have jobs while they were in school, and now those kids are all successful adults whose incomes have far surpassed their parents'. I know families whose kids were expected to work and pay their way for everything, and they, too, are very successful, affluent adults. So when it comes to kids and money, there's no perfect way, but there are many ways that work out. The most important thing, in my opinion, is to model living below your means, and be grateful for what you have. 

A few things we have implemented with our kids in regards to money are:

1. Starting a savings for them early on

From the time our kids were babies, they've received some gifts in the form of money. We put that money in the bank - even if it was just $20 a year. As they got older, they started being more aware of their birthday and Christmas money, so occasionally, it doesn’t make it into the bank, but about 75% of the money they've received as gifts has gone into the bank. This hasn't amounted to tons of money, but it's something. 

2. We give unconditional allowance

That makes them sound spoiled, but it's $5 every two weeks when they are little (to match our pay day, they also get pay day), and then when they get older, it's $10. So it's seriously next to nothing. The purpose is to give them the opportunity to practice having money. They need the chance to make stupid decisions. They need to learn to save or wait for things, and anticipating a few dollars every two weeks helps them do that. 

I am also always willing to come up with a plan for them to earn some money if they want to. 

3. We pay for what they need as long as they are being responsible

We cover the expenses of their extracurricular activities and things like gas and insurance as long as they are doing well in school, behaving at home, driving safely, meeting curfew, and helping out when asked.

4. We do a "savings match"

We opened a savings account for each kid with two simple rules:

1. We will match any money they put in that savings account up to $1,200 a year. 

2. They don't get the money until they turn 25. 

We did this so they will have a little bit of savings in young adulthood, but we didn't want to hand it over at age 18 or 21, so we decided to go with 25. We wanted them to have the experience of doing something now that will benefit them later. So far, Nicky and Daisy have caught on really well, and they have chosen to save as much money as they can. Zoe is starting to understand more. Eva, on the other hand, has put $8 in that account for a whopping total of $16. 

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We definitely don't know yet if we've made the best choices, but we've had some positive results. All of our kids have gone through a phase where money burns a hole in their pockets, but as they've become older teens, they've shown a lot of responsibility. Nicky and Daisy have become savvy shoppers, and they both love buying things second-hand. Zoe spends a little more, but she always knows exactly what she wants. Eva... well... let's just say we're still going to be working with that one for a while. 

One thing I need to work on with my kids is showing them more of the cost of living expenses we have so they can get familiar with the services we pay for and how much things cost. As our income has become a little more flexible, our kids have gotten accustomed to things like streaming services and family outings. They don't remember that we went without internet for three years because we couldn't afford it or that we used to mow my grandma's lawn for $20 a week, and that's all the money we had for groceries. 

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I wanted to share this in case other parents are looking for options for how to work with kids and money. I got the idea for the savings match from someone else and modified it to work for our family. Where past generations have not thought it appropriate to talk about money, I think it's very important to have conversations about it. Some aspects of finances are definitely no one's business, but I think it's important to teach our children how to handle money. 

The Right to Remain Calm

When it comes to parenting, it feels like it's all just a big experiment. So much of what I do is just a best guess. I know there are a lot of things I'm good at as a mom. There are also a lot of things I'm bad at. Then there's that gray area where I'm just really unsure. I could be doing the right thing, or I could be doing the wrong thing depending on the child and the circumstances. What's right for one of my kids might be the worst thing I could do for one of my other kids. 

The other day I was thinking about some of my parenting techniques and wondering if I've done okay so far. My kids are pretty decent, but I don't know how much credit I deserve for that and how much is just their nature or dumb luck. There's also the fact that they could change at any moment. The principal at the junior high jokes about (but is also very serious about) how your kid that has always been well-behaved could easily become a monster when they hit those crucial developmental phases of middle school. 

Time will tell if I've made good parenting choices. There are plenty of things I wish I could go back and fix, but all I can do is keep moving forward and use my best judgement.

Looking back, I have a few experiences from my younger years that I think have influenced the type of parent I've become. 

The first is when I was a kid, and my step-sister tried smoking. She told her mom (my step-mom) what she’d done, and my step-mom didn't freak out. I remember being blown away when I learned that Liz had smoked and voluntarily told her mom! I didn't know that moms could choose to not be mad. That they could just say something like, "I'm glad you told me, and I hope you don't do it again." 

The next experience was when Scotty and I were dating. I was probably about 16, and we went to a birthday party at Scotty's cousins' house. Scotty's cousins were known to be a bit rowdy, and the Birthday Boy (who was turning 18) and some friends were rough housing when one of them got slammed into a wall and put a big hole in it. I saw it happen, and I thought Scotty's aunt was going to lose it on those boys. She didn't, though. She just said, "Alright, you idiots. Go outside." She sent them in the backyard, and the party went on. Maybe she came unleashed later when there wasn't an audience, but in the moment, she stayed very calm, and I was in utter shock. 

The third experience was shortly after I graduated high school. I hung out a lot with my friend, Ted, who was the oldest in his family. The boys were rowdy in the same way Scotty's cousins were rowdy (in fact they had the same family configuration of three boys and a girl - same order). When I would go to Ted's house, his brothers would literally bounce off the walls. They would climb on stuff and jump onto their giant bean bag chair. They ran free all over the place doing what we now would label "parkour." There was so much energy and craziness in that house, and I was in awe of it and kind of loved it! Ted's parents were so chill and unfazed by it. They probably needed to crack down on it a little (I don't know how any of those kids turned out because I didn't keep in contact with Ted or his family after I got married), but they exposed me to an alternative way to react to chaos. 

All three of these experiences showed me calmness, and I don't know what kind of parent I would have become if I didn't have exposure to these situations. They really impacted me, but I didn't realize it at a conscious level. Then one day, when Nicky and Daisy were little, I had a friend and her children over to play in the sprinklers. As the kids played in the water, Nicky took his towel with him, super hero cape style, and ran through the sprinklers, resulting in getting his towel soaked. My friend gasped and gripped my leg and said, "How are you being so chill about this?" She explained that if her kids got their towels wet in the sprinklers, she would be so angry. I hadn't given it a second thought. I just figured if Nicky's towel was wet, and he wanted a dry one, he would learn to not run through the sprinklers with his towel. I didn't see the need to scold him over it. 

None of that is to say that I haven't ever lost my cool or overreacted. I do plenty of that. But I also have moments where I remain calm. 

Like when Nicky rammed his head into the wall while running down the stairs.

Or when Nicky rammed his head into the wall after spinning in circles for too long:

Or when Nicky rammed his knee into the wall while trying on his mission pants.

(I’m still not sure exactly how this happened)

Hopefully someday I can hand him a tub of mud and say, “Go fix all the damage you caused!” In the meantime, if my kids aren’t afraid to tell me they put a hole in the wall, that’s not a bad thing. Hopefully I won’t have to repair too much damage I’ve caused.

Mom and Dad Til the End of Time

Back in May, Scotty and I went on a quick trip to Disneyland for our 20th Anniversary. In some ways, this made us feel young, wild, and carefree. But then when I saw the photos (like the one below), I was like, "Oh dear! We’re so old!" (said in Sultan voice)

The photos made me realize that, even when we don’t have kids with us, we are a mom and a dad. I mean, look at us!

I am such a mom! And Scotty is such a dad!

We were never supposed to be like this. We truly believed that we would always be cool and “with the times” (nevermind the fact that we weren't ever cool when we were actually young).

Here are some things that Scotty does that make him such a dad:

He wears an ugly hat to keep the sun off his head and neck.

He eats whatever our kids leave on their plates. 

When people drive fast up the street, he goes out on the porch and gives them the stink eye.

He tells dad jokes. Example:

Me: I’m going to run to the store and grab some milk.

Scotty: It would be faster if you drove.

He falls asleep anywhere, any time, and then he wakes up randomly and yells at everyone because he thinks they’re misbehaving, but they’re really just doing normal, non-sleeping things.

He has a dad bod.

He thinks everyone needs to be in bed by 8:00.

He yells at the neighbor’s dog from inside the house.

He pushes the lock button for the truck at least three times before he goes to bed.

He waves at everyone who drives by (as long as they are going the speed limit).

He digs coupons out of the garbage can.

He’s always telling us how much the cost of gas went up in the last 24 hours.

Here are some things I do that make me such a mom:

I ask my kids and all their friends if they are wearing sunscreen.

I answer to, “Mom!” even when it’s someone else’s kid.

I force everyone to eat my snacks.

I ask things like “Have you pooped today?” “Is there a chance you’ll start your period on vacation?” “Did you flush?” “Did you say thank you?” 

I think driving a mini van is a real treat.

I tell my kids that drinking water is the solution to every problem. 

I wear hideous knee-length shorts.

I went to high school with my kids’ friends’ moms. 

I have Bandaids stashed everywhere… kitchen drawer, wallet, glove box.

I stand outside of bathroom stalls and say, “Every last drop! Make sure you get EVERY. LAST. DROP!”

I’ve picked out my oldest children’s spouses. 

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There’s no getting away from it. We are what we are. Mom and Dad til the end of time.

Draft Week: Post #1 "The Mom I Am"

A few times in the past, I've done a "Draft Week" on my blog where I publish some of the blog posts that I never finished. Last week, I took a look through my draft folder in Blogger and found quite a few unfinished posts. Some of them I never completed because I forgot about them. Others I never finished because I hit a wall and didn't know where to go from my stopping point. Some of them I was worried would hurt someone's feelings or might have been out of line in some way. Regardless of the reason, I have a lot of unfinished posts just sitting around, so I decided I'm due for another "Draft Week." Every day this week, I'll post something from my draft folder. I'll make a few edits here and there, but for the most part, these posts will remain incomplete.

(Aside: I am writing this post on Thursday, April 27, and the NFL draft happens to start tonight at 8:00. I think this is such a funny coincidence, and I only know about it because I accidentally typed "draft week" in the search bar on my browser when I meant to type it in the search bar on my blog so I could link back to a past "draft week"). 

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Let's start off with this post, which I titled, "The Mom I Am:"

I am not…

A “play with the kids” mom.

A PTA mom.

A hugging and kissing mom.

A birthday party mom.

A “fight for the front row” mom.

A sports mom.

A “stay up late” mom.

A swimming mom.

A class party mom.

An adventurous mom. 

I am…

A ride giving mom.

A back tickling mom.

A snack making mom.

A "give you space" mom.

A question asking mom.

A “feed your friends” mom.

A “bring a date” mom.

A photo taking mom.

A “small and simple surprises” mom.

A “meme sending” mom.

A reasonable mom.

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When I wrote this, I was thinking about all the things I don't really offer as a mom versus the things I do. There's a lot I'm not good at as a parent, but I hope I provide balance with what I am good at. Mostly, I just hope I'm the right gal for the job when it comes to these four kiddos I'm raising.

Kid Things: A Photo Essay

The other day Daisy had an eye appointment at 8:00 in the morning. I had a couple of options for getting Zoe and Eva to school - I could either ask someone else to take them or take them after Daisy's appointment. I decided to take them late rather than coordinate with someone else to get them to school. 

When we pulled in to the school, they asked, "So... what do we do when we're late for school?" And I said, "I don't really know!" Because we've never really been late for school. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to go in the school with them or just send them in. I figured it was probably okay to just send them in, but I decided to write a note for good measure. I found a blank post-in on the floor of the van (I'd like to think that the hair and dirt stuck to the back just added to the sincerity of the message), jotted down a note, and sent them on their way. 

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Scotty and Nicky are in a constant competition to see who is taller. About once a week, I'm stuck playing judge. I think Scotty still reigns by about a 1/4 inch, but it's really close. 
 

Nicky spoke at a youth devotional on Sunday following a petite young lady, and I swear it took ten minutes for the pulpit to reach the right height for him to be heard in the microphone. It made me think of my cousin Blake, who, when speaking at the pulpit, can only be seen from the nose down on Zoom. 

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We recently got a new (used) mattress (after 20 years, it was much needed). When we removed our old mattress, we found Zoe and Eva's secret stash of candy wrappers. 

I was not pleased. 

Nor were they when I made them clean it up.

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My home is full of creative people. 

I quite enjoy this portrait Eva made of Scotty during sacrament meeting a couple of Sundays ago.

It's funny to me that Eva sees him as a bearded man because Scotty isn't actually allowed to have a beard due to his work. But every weekend, he gets lazy and lets his stubble grow, so on Sundays, he has scruff, so I guess Eva has figured out that if she draws her dad on a Sunday, he needs to have a beard.

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On the weekends, things get messy at our house. I jokingly refer to the messes as "consequences of nurturing" because it's always when my kids are doing things that are good for their brains that everything gets trashed. 

Last weekend, Zoe and Eva got the costumes out and had a grand old "nurturing" time. 

The hairy belly fanny pack makes me do a double take every time. 

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Sometimes Zoe is a mood in the mornings. 

Please note the “consequences of nurturing” at our kitchen table. We frequently eat breakfast with Lego among us. 

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Over the weekend, I participated in nearly 8 hours of stake conference meetings. This meant I had to do a lot of parenting by text message while my kids were home. 

I was fine until 11:20 on Sunday. Then something inside of me snapped, and I wanted to run out of the chapel with my arms flailing, yelling, "Get me out of here!" 

It took every ounce of control I could muster to make it through those last 40 minutes. 

Not Yet

For most of the past 16 years of my life, I've been a stay-at-home mom (SAHM). When Scotty and I got married, that was something we hoped for - that I would be able to stay home with our kids. With that in mind, we tried to always live on Scotty's income alone. So prior to having kids, when I was working, I tried to put everything I earned into the bank so my income was never part of our lifestyle. 

We lived on the cheap. It doesn't even sound fathomable now, but back then, I budgeted $20 a week for groceries and $100 a month for "stock up." I did that for a few years - even after we had Nicky. Some of you who have been reading my blog from the beginning may even remember that I used cloth diapers for Nicky (and occasionally for the other three, but Nicky was exclusively cloth diapered for two years). I've always tried to be very careful with our money so I can continue staying home with my kids. 

(Please note that this isn't a commentary on anyone else's circumstances or choices. I wanted to be a SAHM because I felt like it was what my family would need. Being a SAHM comes with some privileges as well as some sacrifices. The same is true for working mothers. We're all just trying to do what's best for our families, and I don't feel like my choice is better than anyone else's - it's just different. But I will say that I made the choice prayerfully and carefully, and I am always reassessing to determine if it's still the right choice as our family moves into various phases of growth). 

When I left work to have Nicky, I thought I would end up working again within six months. The budget didn't work on paper once we added in the expenses of having a baby. I remember a few days after Nicky was born, Scotty and I stopped at a pastry shop, and I ended up crying on the way home, thinking I had just sabotaged our family by spending $13 - over half a week's grocery money - on baked goods. Granted, I was in the depths of post-partum depression, and I was incredibly illogical and hard on myself. I couldn't see that $13 wasn't going to destroy my life (so long as I didn't make it a daily thing). I wish I could go back and tell that young mom that she can enjoy her lemon bar guilt-free, and everything will be okay. 

To my surprise, things worked out, and I wasn't forced to go back to work within six months. Things were tight, but with the money I had put in the bank while I was working, we were able to pay off our hospital bills and our car, and that helped us stay afloat. 

(Being the young, naive individual that I was, I didn't realize just how much my hospital bills would amount to from having a baby. I'm not sure what I expected, but I remember being shocked as bill after bill rolled in. I was so glad I had put money in the bank while I was working). 

Now that all of my kids are in school, I am constantly revisiting my status as a SAHM. To be honest, I feel a little guilty that I am still "staying home." Some of my days are packed with doctor's appointments, volunteering, church meetings, and chores, followed up by afternoons and evenings of driving everyone around to their various commitments. And I think, "Wow! I'm very busy! I don't think I could work!" But then I have days like today where I can go to the gym for an hour, finish a book, take a long shower, and sit on my couch and blog. And those are the days when I feel the guilt. I feel like I shouldn't be able to do this. It's too privileged. 

But then something will happen - like a child getting sick, or a teacher needing a volunteer, or a shooting by the school during lunch hour - and I feel so grateful that I'm available. 

(Again, this is not a commentary on anyone else's circumstances. I am available in those instances. You might not be, and that's okay. We are fulfilling needs in different ways).

Scotty's income has grown significantly since we had Nicky, but we're still at the level of having "just enough" with an occasional bit of cushion that allows us to do a fun trip now and then (with the assistance of Sky Miles). We have always hoped to pay off our house, and I can't help but wonder how much easier that would be if I were making some money. Then there are concerns like, will we have enough money to properly retire someday? Can we stay afloat in a medical crisis? I don't want to find myself in a dire financial situation and end up feeling like it's my fault for not having worked for so many years. 

But thus far, whenever I go to the Lord asking about my employment status, I feel like I need to continue being a SAHM, at least for now. Someday, that might change, and I'm open to that prompting when it comes (which is why I pray about it continually). This week, I went through it again, wondering if it's time to go back to work. I felt the wave of, "not yet," and it was followed by a few tender mercies that solidified that answer. 

So here I sit. On my couch. With my laptop that is falling apart (just one more way I'm trying to save money). Blogging. Feeling guilty. But also knowing that I'm where I'm supposed to be right now. 

Accounting for the Accounting

The other day my son Googled me. I think the results blew his mind. I feel like Nicky has a lot of respect for me, which is a trait in him that I find so endearing, but he still has limited vision as to who I am as a person - being his mom and all! As he combed through the search results, he said things like:

- Mom! There’s an article written about you on the internet! It has our family picture! It’s not really you, though, right?

- Are you like a motivational speaker or something? No, that can’t be you!

- Wait! Did you study accounting? Why on earth would you study accounting? That’s not you, is it?

This all made me laugh as I explained to him that yes, there was once an article written about me online, I’ve given talks and presentations in lots of places, and yes! I did study accounting! 

Nicky knows I have a blog, but he doesn’t read it. Someday he probably will (but I’m glad to know he didn’t find it by Googling me). In case he ever ends up here and hasn’t figured out why I studied accounting, here is the story…

When I was a senior in high school, I really struggled with figuring out what to do after graduation. I narrowed my college choices down to two: Westminster College or LDS Business College - two very different schools. 

Westminster was my first choice, but the tuition was atrocious! I had a scholarship there, but it only covered a small fraction of the cost. I ended up switching to LDS Business College where my scholarship covered full tuition and books and even gave me the perk of being able to buy a few pencils from the book store. 

Of course, what ultimately helped me decide where to go to school was prayer, but I have to say, I had a hard time discerning the answer because my best friend was also going to LDSBC, and I wasn’t sure if I was being led to go to school there or if I was just doing what was easy. 

LDSBC was a quirky but exciting school. It has since been relocated and renamed, but when I went there, the college was in the historic Enos Wall Mansion in downtown Salt Lake City. 

You guys! I went to school in a mansion! And it was so cool! It had elegant staircases, servant passageways, an old elevator, fireplaces, a carriage house, and a ballroom (in addition to a bunch of boring areas that looked like traditional classrooms). 

(Side note: my grandma also went to LDSBC).

When I started at LDSBC, I had a few college credits already. My intention was to just get my associate’s in general studies and then decide what to do next. I was rather directionless. After my first semester, I had a feeling I should look into getting an accounting certificate. It made no sense to me as I had zero interest in accounting. In fact, it sounded so boring and so awful that only a legit nudge from the Lord could get me to even consider such a thing! The prompting was not subtle. I could not push it from my mind, so I had to act on it. 

I met with my academic advisor and found out that if I swapped a couple of elective credits for accounting classes, I could easily earn my certificate alongside my associate’s degree. So I did!

I ended up actually liking accounting. Surprisingly, it made sense to me! I thought accounting was math, but it was more like a form of organization. I did really well in my accounting classes and even excelled in my business law class!

Business law!!!

Me!!!

(Now, I don’t remember anything I learned in accounting or business law! It’s gone! All of it! The only thing I recall from business law was that my instructor one day said, “You can’t take sour Winder milk and mix it with fresh Winder milk and expect to still have fresh Winder milk!” I happened to work for Winder Dairy at the time, so I knew what was meant by "Winder milk," but to the majority of the students (90% of whom were from outside of Utah, many from other countries) “Winder milk” made no sense. They kept asking “What is a Winder?” Because to them, you had cow’s milk and goat’s milk, so apparently a Winder was something from which you could extract milk. Well, the teacher just kept ignoring their questions about Winder milk and saying, “It doesn’t matter! Just remember that you can’t get fresh Winder milk that way!” And I have no idea what that had to do with anything, so thank you, Higher Education). 

After I graduated from LDSBC, I didn't transfer to another school. I prayed about it and felt like I should wait (you can read more about how that turned out here).

A few years later, I was hired out of 26 applicants for a job in my local school district. One of the reasons I was selected was because I had an accounting certificate. I had to oversee the budgets for six different special education programs (among various other responsibilities that my education at LDSBC prepared me for). 

I didn't work at that job for very long, but while I was there, I put all the money I made in the bank (in response to another prompting). While all of this was happening, I was trying to have a baby and couldn't, so I thought I might be saving money for IVF or adoption. Instead, after a couple of years, we were blessed with Nicky, and the money I had put away was what allowed me to stay home and raise him. 

I'm now able to say, "Ah ha! That's why the Lord pushed me in that direction!" (I like when I get to see those things sooner rather than later, but there are plenty of life's whys that I'm still waiting to unfold). 

So for my son who asked, "Why accounting?" I didn't know it, but it was for you. 

Mom Thoughts

I got married a year out of high school. I had no idea how young I really was. Fortunately, almost 19 years later (whoa! I’ve almost been married half my life!) it seems like it was a pretty good choice (a very unique and personal choice. I’m not advocating for the general population of 19 year olds to get married. In fact, the thought of my own children marrying at that age horrifies me).

I had a few friends from school who got married within that same year. One of them was among the first to have a baby. When I ran into her shortly after having her baby, I asked, “So… how are you liking being a mom?” I expected her to say that it was wonderful and that she loved it. Instead, she shocked me by saying, “It’s really hard.” 

As stupid as it sounds, it had never really occurred to me, until that moment, that being a mom would be hard. I know that was incredibly naïve of me, but you have to understand - I was about 22 years old and completely clueless. 

I have never forgotten my friend’s confession. She made me realize, for the first time, that motherhood might not be easy. Through my pregnancy with Nicky, I would often think about her saying, “It’s really hard.”

Thank heavens she told me. I needed to hear it from someone my age. I needed to know! I needed to know because the second Nicky came screaming into the world, it was already hard to be a mom. 

Nicky immediately hating life

It turned out that Nicky had a birth injury and was likely in pain, but we didn’t know until he was two months old. He cried uncontrollably for hours when he was born, and I was immediately terrified of him. I also developed postpartum depression right away. I hadn’t really had any experience with depression prior to that (anxiety - yes, but not depression). The only reason I had any idea what might be going on was because in 2005 I’d watched Oprah interview Brooke Shields about postpartum depression, and there were a few things Brooke said in that interview that were suddenly happening to me. Postpartum depression wasn’t as openly talked about back then. Brooke Shields kind of helped pave the way for that discussion, but it still took time to become mainstream. For me it was the most humiliating thing I could experience. I remember finding out that Scotty told his brother that I had PPD. I was really upset. I didn’t want anyone to know! I was completely ashamed of myself for it. It felt like weakness. Like failure.

My feelings of weakness and failure were amplified by the fact that I’d had a difficult time becoming pregnant. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to struggle with motherhood in any form because I had fought so hard to obtain it. Having any sort of difficult emotions about my baby seemed like a form of ingratitude for a blessing I’d begged for and finally been granted. 

I know now that it wasn’t weakness or failure, and I wish I could go back and walk my younger self through it. I wish I could praise her and say, “Look how brave you are! You know something’s not quite right. You talked to a doctor about it. You’re getting help! That takes courage, and I’m proud of you! You’re doing great!”

Now it’s been 15 years, and the fact that parenting is hard is no longer a shocking revelation. I understand now that the level of difficulty one experiences isn’t a measure of the quality of parent you are; whereas, I used to think that struggling equated to being a “bad” mom. That’s not to say that I don’t constantly question my own parenting or feel like I’m doing a poor job. Those feelings will never fully subside. I will always wonder whether I’m doing the right things as a parent, and in all honesty, I spend the majority of time thinking I’m not a good enough mom. Even though postpartum depression is no longer a concern, there are so many other things that feel like weaknesses or failures. Fortunately, I occasionally feel a prompting from the Spirit that I'm doing okay. I can't imagine trying to do this without prayer and personal revelation. 

This has been on my mind lately as I’ve mothered my own children and been privy to some of the challenges other mothers are currently facing. Through all phases of life, being a mom is hard. It's full of heartbreak and sometimes pure helplessness. Some of the best mothers I know are going through incredibly hard things with their kids in all phases of life - things none of us imagined when we first held our babies in our arms and sniffed their precious, little heads. 

I haven’t seen or talked to my aforementioned friend in a number of years. Her baby is now in high school, as is my first baby. I wonder what my friend would say if I asked her today, “So… how are you liking being a mom?”

I bet she’d say, “It’s really hard.”

How to Eat Toast: A Tutorial for Moms

Step 1: Put two slices of bread in the toaster while you distribute Eggos to your children

Step 2: Take your toast out of the toaster

Step 3: Realize there is no soft butter

Step 4: Get butter out of fridge and microwave for 12 seconds 

Step 5: Pop toast back in toaster to warm up again

Step 6: Forfeit toaster access to replenish children’s Eggos

Step 7: Distribute second round of Eggos

Step 8: Put toast back in toaster

Step 9: Remove toast from toaster and apply butter

Step 10: Take a bite of toast

Step 11: Help your daughter comb her hair, inspect teeth brushing, respond to text message from child’s speech therapist, take a bathroom break, find a lost shoe, make 6 more Eggos, and take your pills while you’re thinking about it.

Step 12: Enjoy your cold toast

It's Not So Bad

Today so far:

I woke up with a feeling of something in my eye. I can't find anything in my eye, and I'm on hour three of that uncomfortable sensation, so I've probably scratched my eyeball or my eyelid somehow. 

I have a sick kid home from school. 

My hair is caked in a film, making me wonder if I forgot to rinse out the conditioner (something I do more than I care to admit). 

I have a dentist appointment this morning. That will be fun with my sore, watery eyeball.

I also have a mysterious bump that I'm hoping is not a staph infection or cellulitis. I'm a little paranoid of bacterial infections after Scotty had to have a staph infection cut out of his leg in 2012, and Daisy spent four days in the emergency room with cellulitis in 2018. Mysterious bumps are bad news. Avoid them at all costs. 

But all is well. It's just a weird morning so far.

Yesterday for "home primary" I had my kids watch the Friend to Friend broadcast that the church released on Saturday. My kids have never been very agreeable when it comes to church broadcasts, so I anticipated their resistance and a lot of whining. I never thought we'd make it through the entire 45 minutes. To my astonishment, they were totally into it! 

Eva and Zoe love to read the Friend magazine on the toilet. I hung a magazine rack on the wall, and they always pull the laundry hamper up to the toilet like a desk and flip through magazines. 

Part of what held their interest during the Friend to Friend broadcast was that they talked about so many things from the last few issues of the Friend magazine. Zoe repeatedly said, "I saw that in the Friend!" Then she was excited to show me all the things from the broadcast in her magazines. "See, Mom, this is the boy that we saw on TV. Here is the rock art like the lady made on TV." It was fun to see her recognize those things and express enthusiasm over them. 

Part of the Friend to Friend included learning how to draw a picture of a child praying. Again, my kids were totally into it! They drew praying children all day yesterday. 

It was one of those small parenting victories that made me feel like maybe things aren't so bad. We've really had some struggles with Zoe and Eva lately, so I'm so grateful for a small "win."

A Tale of Three Woodstocks

A few weeks ago, Scotty and I had a date night, and throughout the course of our time together, we ended up planning a trip to Disneyland.

Date nights can lead to wild ideas.

We pretended we were just daydreaming, but we both knew that we wouldn't let it rest until we went through with it. It started as, "Let's fly to California and do a quick two-day visit to Disneyland." Then it became five days in Disneyland (a habit we always fall into). And then we added a day at Knott's Berry Farm.

We are nuts. Absolutely nuts.

We kept the entire thing a secret from our kids (and therefore, everyone else) because we though it would be fun to surprise them. We planned everything and packed everything in secret. I waited until the last possible minute to contact all my kids' teachers (as not to burden them with the responsibility of keeping it a secret) to get the schoolwork we needed. Then we discretely loaded our luggage and the stroller in the trunk and told everyone to get in the van.

No one asked where we were going.

As we were approaching our long-term parking destination (but before it became apparent that that's where we were going) Nicky conveniently asked, "What's that place?" Scotty said, "I think it's a parking facility. Let's go check it out!" So we pulled in and pretended we were just going to drive around and see what it was. Right as we parked, the shuttle pulled up, so we told the kids we should get on the shuttle and go for a ride. We pulled out our luggage - thinking they would start to make assumptions about what was going on.

"Why do you have suitcases?" they asked.

"To see if they fit on the luggage racks in this shuttle," we said.

Oh the web of lies!

Finally, as we shuttled to the airport, we explained to the kids that we were going to Disneyland! On an airplane!

Our kids don't respond well to surprises. Their reaction is usually confusion. In fact, this was Nicky's face for a good ten minutes:

The questions started, "What about school? What about carpool? What about dance class?" Once we assured them that everything was taken care of, they were pretty excited!

This was the first time we've flown to Disneyland as a family (other than one time when Nicky was a baby). Daisy was so excited to go on the plane that she kept clapping, and once she found out that she could wear headphones and watch her very own tv and pick a drink and a snack, she was absolutely elated!

The kids did really well on the plane. The trip there went as perfect as we could have asked for (other than a slight delay due to fog).

Zoe's first flight

When we arrived, we picked up a rental van and settled into our hotel. The next morning we headed to Knott's Berry Farm. Scotty and I had been to Knott's before (15 years ago), but our kids hadn't. We thought it would be fun to take them somewhere new.

We had a lot of fun at Knott's, but it's definitely a better option for older kids (we knew this going into it, so it wasn't a surprise, just a fact confirmed). It took a while for Eva to open her heart to the rides at Camp Snoopy, but she eventually got comfortable and started riding things. Eva and Zoe loved the little rides. Scotty and I took turns chaperoning the Bigs and the Littles. The crowds were manageable other than a few instances. It rained a little, but the rides were still operable.

We take our rides

very seriously!

There was a rollercoaster (Jaguar!) that I really wanted Zoe to go on. It's a pretty mild coaster that weaves through the trees and covers a big section of the park. Zoe had been begging to play a game, so Scotty told her that if she went on the rollercoaster with me, he would let her play a game. She followed through with her end of the deal, so in order to best follow through with his, Scotty found a game that guaranteed a prize for every player.

For the game, you pick two rubber duckies out of a river until you find a pair that matches, then you get to choose either a stuffed Snoopy or a stuffed Woodstock for a prize. Zoe and Eva each played and each picked a stuffed Woodstock.

Hours later, when we were getting ready to leave, Scotty noticed that we only had one Woodstock in the bottom of the stroller. He retraced his recent steps to see if he could find the missing bird, but it didn't turn up. This was one of "those" parenting moments. It really wasn't anyone's fault that the bird was missing. We thought the missing bird was Eva's, and we coached her through her meltdown, but then the girls figured out that it was actually Zoe's, and things went from ugly to hella ugly.

We had a voucher for a free meal, so the kids and I sat down in a restaurant to share the meal while Scotty set off to solve the Woodstock problem.

To play a game at Knott's, you have to have a game card. Scotty's card had $3 left on it, but the game cost $5. He went to the kiosk to load more money on the card, and the employee informed him that it wasn't working. He asked if he could just give her the additional $2. She said no and told him he would have to go to another kiosk on the other side of the park and load the money, so Scotty ran all the way across the park. Then he came back to the game and asked, "Can I just have a Woodstock or are you going to make me pick the ducks?" Luckily, she let him just take a Woodstock. Duckie selection would have really pushed him over the edge at that point!

After all of this, I turned to Scotty and said, "You know that missing Woodstock is going to turn up at some point, right?" and he said, "Yeah."

The next morning, while I was packing my backpack to go to Disneyland, I pulled out a stuffed Woodstock and put it on the bed. Sure enough, it was the Woodstock. It had been in my backpack all along.

(My) Kids These Days

Nicky

• Is 12 years old
• Wears gym shorts and Hawaiian shirts
• Loves watching Dude Perfect
• Is obsessed with Paul Blart Mall Cop (but if you must know, he prefers Paul Blart Mall Cop 2)
• Wears a size 11 shoe
• Is too big for kid's pants and too small for men's pants
• And I can't find dress shirts that fit his neck (so Sundays are very awkward)
• Is very responsible, and I wish he could drive
• Always helps without being asked (but won't ever do his chores)
• Is very money-conscious and is always lecturing me about what I spend (I hate having him at the store with me)
• Is really inventive, clever, and funny
• But can also be really annoying. He's a twelve-year-old boy, after all
• Is a good writer and cartoonist
• Always has sore legs
• Is very critical of others (sadly, I think I know where he got it)
• Never asks to play with friends
• Chose to do summer piano even though I told him he didn't have to (for the first time ever)
• Asks every day if we can go to Disneyland
• Refuses to read anymore Harry Potter books, and I just have to be happy that he made it through the first two
• Enjoys golfing and has a pretty decent swing
• Imitates Gordon Ramsey every time he eats
• Also thinks he's Derek Hough and can critique dances

Daisy

• Is 9 years old (almost 10)
• Is a really good helper, but it has to be her idea to help
• Has really thick hair that has amazing potential, but I have to fight her to brush it, and she usually sports a rat's nest
• Loves unicorns
• Always gets headaches
• Keeps saying she like sushi, but I'm not so sure
• Has an expander in her mouth and will eventually get braces
• Also says she likes Takis, but again... I'm not so sure
• Loves to sing and is actually pretty good at it
• Is always trying to convince me to let her drink caffeine
• Sits way too close to the TV, and if she had it her way, watching TV and YouTube is all she would do
• Likes to be in charge of things, and I always have to remind her that I am the primary chorister, and she is not
• Yells at everyone a lot
• Makes really dumb excuses for everything, and always gets hurt when its time to do chores
• Has made a lot of wonderful progress after having really bad anxiety for a long time
• Likes to draw and do art projects and makes some really cute and creative things
• Doesn't have a lot of patience for things she's not naturally good at (she gets that from me)
• Didn't want to do summer piano, but after a week of no piano, started begging for it
• Was so excited to see Aladdin and has been singing "A Whole New World" for weeks
• Has major issues with honesty
• Asks everyday if she can make slime

Zoe

• Is 6 years old
• Is my most touchy-feely child and has no awareness of personal space 
• Likes boys and is very forward about telling them she has a crush on them
• Has lost a few teeth and has a lot of overcrowding. The orthodontist has big plans for her
• Loves riding her bike and rides really fast
• Needs to work on her potty mouth
• Wants to wear pajamas all the time
• Is pretty whiney 
• Has big, impossible ideas all the time
• Has gotten really tall in the past year
• Needs a lot of attention but also a lot of alone time
• Has the cutest spattering of freckles across her nose
• Wants chicken noodle soup all the time
• Loves penguins
• Drags blankets everywhere and refers to her favorite one as her "booger blanket," and I'm just not going to ask any questions about that
• Is so fun to watch when she's playing. She perfectly demonstrates childhood joy
• Really wants to take ice skating lessons
• Doesn't like milk and always asks for water with ice
• Sleeps on the top bunk 
• Needs her tonsils out, but I keep putting it off
• Recently learned how to microwave popcorn, and she makes it all the time now

Eva

• Is 4 years old
• Is equal parts adorable and horrible
• Has a sippy cup habit that we're never going to kick
• Loves sharks and has shark sheets, a shark blanket, and several stuffed sharks
• Gets away with a lot
• Makes major messes 
• Throws big tantrums
• Always pats my belly and asks if I'm having a baby
• Has the same potty word problem as Zoe
• Still wears diapers at night and completely soaks them
• Is very disruptive in primary every week
• Is a sugar junkie
• Sleeps on the bottom bunk
• Always has to go potty wherever we go
• Pees her pants and then tells me she spilled her water
• Hauls blankies around (all my kids have been blanket kids)
• Always says "psych!"

All of Them

• Hate doing chores and would rather cut off their legs with a hacksaw
• Are creators and love making things and doing projects. We have daily art project messes
• Want to be barefoot all the time
• Watch way too much TV 
• Love cooking - I've had to develop a "kitchen helper" chart and make a rule that no one is allowed to help cook unless it's their day to be the kitchen helpers
• Fight all the time

Sitting

I'm currently sitting in my driveway. I hang out here a lot in the summer while my kids ride bikes.

Here's how it goes:

1. Kids want to ride bikes
2. I open garage and get bikes off hooks (they hang on the wall)
3. Kids ride bikes for 7 minutes
4. Driveway ends up covered in bikes and helmets, kids disappear

We are right on track today. The kids just got into the Otter Pops and are out of sight. I know they are eating them in the living room in front of the TV, which is against the rules, but do I want to get out of my camp chair and go inside to enforce rules? Heavens no.

Speaking of Otter Pops, I am suffering an Otter Pop injury. Ever had the sharp edge of the pouch slice your inner cheek? Otter Pops are dangerous!

Also, my kids leave Otter Pop wrappers everywhere. I've banned Otter Pops from the house, but people keep giving them to us. Why y'all got to be so giving with the Otter Pops?

----------------

I'm currently sitting in my La-Z-Boy in the living room. It's old and threadbare, There's a hole in the arm rest, and I imagine that there are all sorts of mysterious treasures shoved in there. Boogers and garbage, mostly. But ignorance is bliss, so I'm never going to look.

I cleaned the living room and kitchen today, and it took a really long time to get the floors done. The floor will always be my greatest nemesis. Sometimes I think I should get a robot vacuum, but I don't think a Roomba could handle the task at hand. What I really need is part-time custody of a large dog. Then again, that only solves the food part of the problem. I'm not sure what to do about the broken crayons, the Legos, and the Otter Pop wrappers. My part-time dog probably shouldn't eat those.

Sitting in my recliner is the reward I'm giving myself for a job well done, yet, as I've "rested," my kids have managed to destroy the room with blankets and stuffed animals. My reward comes at a cost.

When is Roomba going to invent a dumpster-sized robot vacuum that can suck up garbage, toys, and disobedient children?

-------------------

I'm currently sitting on my bed. I can hear my kids fighting downstairs. I really just want to know the truth: do my kids fight more, less, or the same amount as children in other families?

Another mom once told me that her kids never fight. I can't even process this.

The good thing is that my kids have the capacity to reach both ends of the spectrum. When they get along, they are really amazing. Like, it's some level 10 sibling love. And when they don't get along, it's some level 10 fighting. So I guess we need to know level 10 fighting to know level 10 love.

------------------

I'm currently sitting in my father-in-law's chair. I don't usually get to occupy this seat, but he's not here, so I called dibs! He must've eaten something cheesy recently - based on the piece of shredded cheese I found on the armrest. 

On most Sundays, we go to my in-laws' house to visit. Sometimes we go there even if they're not home - which is the case today. On Sundays we like a change of scenery. Plus their back yard is magical, so we like setting our kids free here. 

I realized recently that I've been going to my in-laws' house on Sundays for over twenty years! More than half my life! 

I didn't know that time would go so fast. 

I still feel young, and yet, I don't get ID-ed when I buy cigarettes at the gas station each week.* I look at the sign that says, "We ID anyone who looks younger than 30," and I mourn that I apparently look my age. 

Thirty-five.

Then I look over at the kid next to me - also buying smokes - and I see that his ID says he was born in 1998, and I think, "WHAT?!? Kids born in 1998 are buying cigarettes?!?"

------------------

*I don't smoke, but a friend of mine does, and she sometimes asks me to grab a pack for her. She wants to quit, so at some point, I'm going to have to say, "I'm sorry, but I can't buy them for you anymore. It's time!" but not yet. 

Parenting Is...

...trying to convince your kids to eat all the Lucky Charms and not just the marshmallows

...asking "whodunnit" all day everyday and knowing that you're never going to get the answer

...finding stickers all over the furniture and knowing that you didn't give them to your kid, so where are the the dang things coming from?

...reaching under the seat of your car to blindly locate a missing shoe and bringing your hand out covered in peanut butter

...having a child jump on you at church, which forces your gum to fly out of your mouth and into your hair

...and then having to gnaw off an inch-long chunk of your hair with your teeth to get the gum out before you lead the music in primary

...finding surprises in the toilet multiple times a day

...finding surprises on the toilet multiple times a day

...having to make stupid rules like, "No acting like a gorilla!"

...and having to follow up with stupid consequences like, "Anyone who acts like a gorilla will have to write I will not act like a gorilla 100 times

...being asked "Can I make slime?" everyday

...worrying about morals, safety, developmental milestones, manners, health, and work ethic all while beating yourself up because you forgot to put sunscreen on

...having to decide when to smell-check and when to just assume it's dirty

...making eye contact with a dude in IHOP while you're on the toilet because your kid ran out of your stall and through the bathroom door, and that guy's table is right outside

...always being the bearer of bad news. You can't have candy for breakfast! Mermaids aren't real! Yes, you have to have a shot today! You're too tall for the play place because you have been genetically engineered to be six-feet tall by age five! Potato chips are not vegetables! No, you cannot make slime!

Eva Was Here Part III

(with special guest appearances)

A Lesson from Hyrum

One of my Church history heroes is Hyrum Smith, brother of the prophet, Joseph Smith. I have a soft spot in my heart for Hyrum, and I thoroughly enjoyed President Ballard's conference talk about Joseph F. Smith last week (Joseph F. Smith was Hyrum's son who suffered much adversity through his life, much like Hyrum, himself).

I don't really have a solid explanation for why I love Hyrum so much, but I think it has something to do with his loyalty, his faithfulness, and his humility. Hyrum went through some really hard things, particularly in his efforts to support his brother Joseph as he restored the Church of Jesus Christ. Hyrum even died for the cause after accompanying Joseph to Carthage where they were both put in jail. The jail was later raided by a mob, and Hyrum was shot in the face and in the back (at the Church History Museum, Hyrum's clothes are displayed, and you can see the bullet hole in the waistband. His death mask is also displayed, and you can see the place where the bullet entered his face).

{The statue of Joseph and Hyrum at Carthage Jail 

where they were shot and killed}

A while ago, I revisited the story of Joseph's leg infection. When Joseph Smith was seven years old, he (and many other members of his family) had typhoid fever. He recovered after two weeks, but contracted osteomyelitis, which is an infection in the bone. Joseph was in severe pain, and multiple attempts to reduce the swelling and drain the infection failed.

Lucky Mack Smith, the boys' mother, later recorded, "Hyrum sat beside [Joseph], almost day and night for some considerable length of time, holding the affected part of his leg in his hands and pressing it between them, so that his afflicted brother might be enabled to endure the pain" (History of Joseph Smith, p. 55).

(Spoiler alert: eventually Joseph had an operation that was effective in saving his leg).

Hyrum would have been around Nicky's current age. As I read this part of the story, I felt my heart stir at this act of brotherly love. It was one of many acts of love from Hyrum. I received a prompting at that time that I would need to share this story with my children sometime.

A few weeks before this study session, Scotty and I were busy in the house while the kids played outside. Eva took a fall and and scraped her leg. The other three kids carried her in the house, laid her on the couch, bandaged her leg, tucked her in a blanket, brought her milk, and turned on her favorite show. They did everything they could to make her feel better. By the time Scotty and I knew what was going on, they'd made her comfortable enough to drift off to sleep.

I was so touched by their love and concern for their littlest sister - it was a beautiful testament that they really do care about each other.

Yesterday before school my kids were out of control with their fighting. There have been a lot of days like that lately - I feel like they are always at each others' throats, and I'm at my wits end (well, I'm always at my wits end, but I'm at the more end-y end of my wits end right now). I sent multiple kids to their bedrooms, and we still had half an hour before we would leave for school. I couldn't figure out how we would survive that long under one roof without someone losing some teeth. While the kids were banished to their rooms, I sat on the stairs with my face in my hands, trying to not go ballistic. Then a thought came to me, "Tell them about Hyrum."

So I called my kids into the room and told them about Hyrum. I told them how much he loved his brother - how he held Joseph's leg while he was in pain, and how he later died with him. Then I reminded my kids of the day that they helped Eva after she fell, and I told them I was so proud of them for being like Hyrum Smith.

I didn't say anything about the fighting - I didn't have to - and as a result, I am reminded of three things:

1). Hyrum is the bomb diggity
2). I can rely on the Spirit to help teach my children
3). Even though my household often resembles a cage fighting match, there is genuine love there