GOOD MORNINGS

see this sweet, sleepy babe? goodness i love her. i love her cheeks and those long eyelashes, i love the way she holds her ears while she sleeps, i love how easy she is to put to bed every night, and i love that she sleeps all night long. the one thing i have struggled to love- since the week she was born!- is that she is very much a morning person, and her idea of morning is usually before 6am. i am very much NOT a morning person. i can't fake it even when i try. i hate having to function/converse/move before 8am. i will stay in bed until forced to move, answer all conversation in grunts or single words when required, and put off any kind of getting dressed or making breakfast type activities as long as possible. this has, thus far, served me just fine. lucky me, luc is not a morning person like his mama, so we've regularly slept until 8 or 9 since he was born. he also wakes up slowly, so he's always pretty content to lay by me in bed for a few minutes while we both adjust to the terrible truth that it's morning. but then this cute lia girl came along and brought with her a daily 6am {usually more like 5:45am!} wakeup time- and she isn't content to lay around and snuggle, oh no. she wants a sippy of milk! and breakfast! and peek-a-boo! she is all smiles and squeals and climbing all over her poor mama who is desperately trying to pretend there isn't a child sitting on her head, and go back to sleep for a few more precious minutes. 

i've fought this every morning for a year now, and lately it has just been really hard. i have been SUPER grumpy every morning, trying to snatch a few more minutes of sleep- or at least just avoiding having to move from my bed- while lia squeals and fusses and demands my attention and pulls my hair and pokes me in the eyes. and when i wake up super grumpy, it is really challenging for me to NOT stay grumpy the rest of the day. i don't just snap out of it, or feel cheerful after finally getting out of bed. i stay in a grumpy funk the whole day, and my poor kiddos get the brunt of my moodiness. and this has been happening more and more often lately, to the point that i knew i needed to change something, or i was just going to be that perma-grumpy mom that no one wants to be around.

but what could i change??????? i've never been a cheery person first thing in the morning, and having kids who bounce out of bed and start asking for things first thing in the am went against all of my natural inclinations. sigh. so i asked orlando what i should do {with the hope that he would suggest hiring a morning nanny to take care of the first two hours of every day} and turns out, his response was not what i wanted to hear. he said that instead of fighting that moment when i finally have to get out of bed EVERY SINGLE MORNING, i should just embrace it, and get up. just get up right when lia gets up, and go. stop avoiding the inevitable.

without any other ideas, i said i'd try it, but i seriously doubted it would make any difference. HA! my husband is a genius, and i should not doubt him. it has been amazing what a difference this has made in our days this past week. i get up, i fill lia's sippy, i start breakfast, and she giggles and chatters and i am not annoyed or grumpy or cursing the universe. i'm still not incredibly talkative, but i am awake and productive and a thousand times more cheerful than i was before. no more grumpy mom for the entire day! {i still have my moments, i'm human} i don't feel like i have this rain cloud over my head all day anymore, instead i'm happy to see my kiddos when they wake up, i'm happy to hear about luc's dream and to make lia seconds and thirds for breakfast {it's practically her one meal of the day}.  we've had an all-around happy week over here and i've loved it.

now, this is not to say that it's all been perfection... around 4pm every day, i'm so tired, i just lay on the playroom floor for awhile while the kiddos play around, and on top of me. so i need to start going to bed earlier, for sure. BUT! i'd rather be tired than exceedingly grumpy, any day. 

i wrote this post to document my growth as a human being {because i'm very proud of myself for actually doing this in real life!} and to say that if i can learn to embrace mornings, so can you. start now, you'll be so glad you did!

TO BE PRESENT

it's been a difficult month for me. and i'm not entirely sure why, though i do know some of the contributing factors are exhaustion and hormones. i've been struggling. struggling to enjoy the everyday. struggling to be patient and cheerful. struggling to slow down, play, and laugh. struggling to be present with my family. i feel like i'm trudging uphill with lead boots on my feet- i'm so tired and all i want to do is stop moving, stop talking, stop helping, and completely check out for awhile. everything feels so much harder than it is. i get absorbed into my phone and can't put it down. i put off playing trains or telling stories as long as possible. i wander around my house aimlessly, looking at everything that needs to be done and deciding i don't have the energy to do any of it. i'm grumpy and distant and can't remember details from a conversation we had five minutes ago.

i haven't yet figured out a way to snap out of it, i think it's one of those things you have to wade through to the end, instead of a quick fix. i do know that i cannot get through a day without saying my morning prayers {plus a whole lot more throughout the day}. so if anything, i'm gaining a greater testimony of prayer. always a bright side, right?

this being said, i am increasingly grateful for my family, for the blessing of being a mama to these two kiddos, and for the knowledge i have of a loving Savior who knows all i am going through. a dear friend reminded me of this today, and i am grateful for her unfailing love and encouragement. 

see? i'm incredibly blessed, and just by writing this out, i already feel a little better. yesterday, i surprised luc with a picnic lunch at the park after preschool, and for one whole hour i was 100% present and happy, and it felt wonderful. i adore my boy and his bigger-than-life spirit. I'm hoping he forgives my shortcomings and knows how dearly he is loved. i'm going to start with that good hour and keep going. baby steps, i'll get there yet.

OCTOBER

i love october. it's a month of change, and i find that more often than not, i need things to change right about now. usually, we'd be bidding our park days farewell and breaking out the soups and sweaters, but this year is a little different. it was 81 degrees today, so we aren't exactly pulling on the layers, but i feel the change in the air nonetheless, even if it is lacking that crisp chill we're used to.

general conference weekend was a big weekend for me. nothing extraordinary happened, but i was really touched by a few of the messages and i have been putting some of the inspiration i felt to good use, including daily personal scripture study and morning prayer. seeing the difference a prayer to start my day has made, i have no idea how i got through so many days without it. i have more patience, more energy, better mothering ideas, and a more grateful heart.

things just feel really good this week. i got into a kind of negative/depressed rut over the long summer, and i have taken my sweet time shaking it off. i'm sure i can chalk most of this up to hormones and the stress of being a single + pregnant mom for most of the summer, but it sure has been hard to get over. i'm finally feeling like the giant load of stress and worry and frustration i was lugging around is gone, and i am happier and lighter than i have been in weeks. i'm putting on lipstick and laughing over spilled apple juice {instead of crying} and letting go of all the have-tos and trying to just enjoy today. arizona seems to be feeling the same way, as the weather has turned into perfection this week- 77 degrees all day and night- and we have been soaking up every minute of daylight. i watched the cloudy sky split with streaks of the deepest blue yesterday and i had to fight the impulse to throw my arms out and twirl, everything just felt so good- the air, the sky, my soul, luc's grin and dirty knees, baby girl playing kickball in my belly- i felt a peace and contentment i have been missing for too long.

i think that's how it goes sometimes. life gives us trials and times of stress, but to help us through, heavenly father has given us this beautiful earth, personal revelation, and really special people to call family.

and they really do help us through.

to love them and be loved by them is my life's greatest blessing and dearest happiness.

STAYING HOME

long before i had luc, way before i even got married, it was my dream to be a stay-at-home mom. it wasn't my only dream, but it was an important one. looking back, i feel like my reasons for wanting to stay home were a mix of selfless and selfish- i wanted to do what was best for luc, i wanted to give him as much (or more) nurturing and attention as he would ever need to be happy and healthy. and i wanted to sleep in and wear yoga pants everyday and go to lunch with my girlfriends and not miss a moment of luc's babyhood. when i was pregnant with luc and working full-time at the bank, i was seriously counting down the days until my sweet boy would arrive and i'd never have to get up at 6:30am again.

hahaha.

there are lots of yoga pants days but not much sleeping in included with this gig.

today though, i got us both up and ready and we trekked over to the aquarium for a few hours of SHARKS! and lots of other fish that luc didn't care much about. but he loved the sharks, so it was a win. as we were waiting to head out, i snapped this picture of the two of us, sitting on the steps outside our little home, just me and my little buddy, like it has been almost every morning for two+ years. me and that dimpled face, we're a team, and we get through everyday- both the good days and the bad days- together. later when i looked at the picture, i was overwhelmed with deep gratitude and complete love for my full-time job. i love being a stay-at-home mom! yes, it's full of hard moments and it's, more often than not, very unglamorous looking, but i wouldn't trade a day with those dimples for all the glamour and all the sleep in the world. i love playing trains and sharing a bowl of ice cream and i love his little 'dank doo mommom' and 'i wuv you mommom' and i love kissing owies and starting tickle fights. i daydream about having a day off, but if i ever really had one, i'd miss this. 

this is the best.

OCEAN LOVER

a writing exercise

luc loves the ocean the way some people love sleep. go too long without it and all he does is cry, all day long. it is the only place he volunteers to get ready for- he grabs his hat and his shoes and his trucks and waits patiently by the door while mama grabs the other one hundred things necessary for a beach day. he babbles excitedly the entire way there, lots of exclamations about agua! and splash! and plane! {lots of airplanes/helicopters fly over mission beach, which only makes him love it more}. as soon as we finish our trek from the car to the water, he lays down on the warm sand, stretching his limbs out as far as they will go and resting his cheek on the sand, like he's trying to hug an enormous, dear friend. he will lay like that, eyes closed and a peaceful smile on his face, while i set up our towels and umbrella and dump out the sand toys. then he jumps up, eyes big and sparkling, and yells AGUA! he grabs my hand and off we run, into the {freezing} ocean, like fish out of water. he is always completely unfazed by the cold waves, and when i try to slow down to acclimatize my goose pimply legs to the water a little at a time, he lets go of my hand and runs headfirst into the oncoming swell, oblivious to everything but his desire to get as wet as possible, as fast as possible. of course, then i have to plunge in after him, teeth gritted against the chill, and grab whatever body part i can reach before the oncoming wave rolls over him like a baker rolling out cookie dough. despite the fact that he's been steamrolled more than once, and come up sputtering and choking and grasping my arms for dear life, he forgives the ocean almost instantly and runs back in for more. it's an impressive love he's got, to get scraped and splashed over and over, and still he yells joyfully, MORE! AGAIN!

only bribery will get him to leave when it's nap time or mama's energy is depleted. {i've had to pay this kid LOTS of dum-dum suckers this summer}. ever so slowly, he will walk across the sand to the car, propelled only by his mama's impatient hand, waving bye-bye and blowing kisses to his beloved ocean. on the way back, we always stop at the outdoor showers to rinse off because he will invariably fall asleep in the car on the way home and thus not get a bath until much later. on our first beach trip, i attempted to hold him under the adult shower and soap him down- very bad idea. apparently he can take all the cold ocean water in the world right in the face, but a warm stream of water on his head is just too much to handle. so since then, i've been plunking him in the sink and somewhat awkwardly managing to soap and rinse him down, despite the fact that only a third of him actually fits under the faucet. he loves it almost as much as he loves the ocean, and more bribes are required to get him out of the sink and into his clean clothes.

before we are even on the freeway, he's snoring loud enough to wake the dead, and i like to think he's dreaming of more sunny afternoons filled with cold waves and warm sand and baths in the sink.

OHIO BABY

when i daydreamed about my life, there was always orlando, lots of babies, trips to europe, sunny days and summer bbqs with family and friends. ohio, however, never made the list. it wasn't until orlando got accepted to school here that i ever considered ohio as a place i might live someday. and i never intended to love it, or to put down roots here of any kind. so it blows my mind to think that i have this little boy who will forever be tied to this place, that ohio is where his roots begin, where his story starts.

 he's an ohio baby, and that will stay with him always. 

and actually i'm so glad. this place has be good to us, and i like the idea of taking a piece of it with us, of having the thread of our lives pass through here. honestly, it's harder leaving than i thought. mostly because this is luc's home. it's the only home he's ever known, these walls and rooms and streets and parks. it's breaking my heart a little to take him away from this place that constitutes his entire world. he won't even remember it, but i wish he would. his days here have been truly happy, and i'm sad that he won't recall them with fondness, that he'll never laugh at all the times he and haylee chased each other around church, or remember the tall slide at the park he loves so fearlessly, or miss the lunch dates at the museum with his mama. i guess these are memories i will have to keep for him, to tell him later, all about our happy, marvelous days in surprisingly wonderful ohio. they'll forever be some of my favorites.

FEARLESS

i think luc teaches me more than i teach him. he is always quick to give me a squeeze after a tantrum {his, not mine}, he loves without holding back, he snaps out of his grumpy moods so quickly and is so eager to choose the right/please mama. and he's fearless. i have no idea where his bravery came from but he was born with more courage than i've acquired in 28 years. and while sometimes this adds stress because he's always climbing tall things and/or running away from me in crowded places, it also really amazes me. the attitude he greets the world is one of eager anticipation and invincibility. he is here to climb and explore and win! so many times i look around me and think i am only here to struggle and fall and fail. and then i think maybe i should stop trying, because it's easier to hide than it is to be brave. but then my luc goes climbing to the top of the tallest slide in the park and throws himself down headfirst, laughing with glee, and i'm reminded that doing the hard/intimidating stuff usually brings the most joy. and joy is what i'm here for! so do i will. if he can do it, i can too.

I WONDER

all the time lately, i wonder where the time goes. it flies away like the wind is chasing the snowflakes outside my window today- faster and faster, no matter who hard i try to slow down and feel the minutes and hours. sometimes i feel like i'm watching my life zoom by on fast-forward.

it hasn't always been this way. jr. high was it's very own awful eternity, and by the time i finally graduated from high school, i felt like i had been there an eon at least. in college life went by a little quicker, with each dreaded finals week coming sooner than i wanted, and every wonderful summer spent with my roommates ending too soon. my first married year was a long, happy one, but since then it feels like i've been married maybe another year or two and really it's been four and a half. 

however, NONE of that compares to life after motherhood. seriously, they tell you time flies and to enjoy your newborn because he's going to grow up before you know it. BUT THEY ARE LYING.  time doesn't fly. your newborn doesn't grow fast. 

nope. 

time jets away at SUPER SONIC SPEEDS.

your newborn grows OVERNIGHT.

suddenly and without warning you are the parent of an almost two year old, and topics like 'discipline' and 'potty training' are part of regular conversation for you and you have NO IDEA how that happened.

wasn't he just born a few months ago?

i tell you, i wonder that every day.

this essay is part of my ongoing blogging challenge

LITTLE BEAN

on december 7 i would have been 10 weeks pregnant.

we were so excited our 'little bean' was coming. we told luc he was going to be a big brother and he started kissing my tummy whenever i pointed to where his little sibling was growing. i was craving sweets {especially chocolate. mmmm, TOBLERONE!} and napping everyday when luc napped but other than the tiredness, i felt great. i started keeping a baby/pregnancy journal, just like i did with luc. i had a dream that little bean was a girl, we excitedly announced it to our immediate families, and we couldn't stop talking about what to name her/him. we were thrilled to have another sweet spirit on their way to join our family.

on december 6th, i started bleeding lightly {no pain, no previous indication that anything was amiss} and called the doctor in a panic. she reassured me that everything was probably fine, but offered to get me in for an ultrasound so i wouldn't have to worry all weekend. my first dr. appt. was scheduled for monday the 9th, so we hadn't checked on this baby at all yet. i agreed out loud with the dr. that it was probably nothing, but my heart was heavy. i told myself to be positive, but i think on some level i knew something was wrong. i started shivering like i was freezing, even though my house was warm. i sobbed when i had to call orlando and tell him what was going on.

he hurried home and we went over to the hospital for the ultrasound together. the dr. and ultrasound tech were incredibly kind, but the silence in the room as they watched the screen weighed a thousand pounds, and i could feel myself buckling under it. i shivered through the entire thing, unable to keep my body from shaking. when they put the image up for me to see, i knew instantly that our baby was gone. our baby was gone. there was no cute little gummy bear floating around in that dark sac, just a few clots and lumps of tissue where a baby should be.

the dr. said that from what she could tell, our baby had stopped growing somewhere between the sixth and seventh week, and that my body had started to break everything down, preparing for the natural process of cleaning it out. she said it is unfortunately very common in the first trimester- if the embryo doesn't have all the chromosomes needed for whatever reason {usually unknown to us}, it simply stops growing.

it took three weeks for my body to register that it was no longer pregnant. for three weeks we planned and dreamed and loved a baby who was no longer here. that's the thing that kills me the most. that i didn't know when she/he left. a mother should know when her baby is gone. a mother should know. even though i know there's nothing i could have done about it, i feel like i should have at least felt that little spirit leave.

…

we are ok. sometimes we get distracted and it feels lighter, and then sometimes it all comes rushing back and the grief feels sharp and brand new. i am tired and achey and sore so there's been lots of resting going on. luc seems to sense that mama and papa need some extra love because he has been an angel, smiling and blowing kisses and making us laugh. i'm so incredibly grateful for that little boy, for his amazing, sweet spirit, for the joy he brings to our home, even on sad days.

i'm so immensely grateful for orlando too. i'm grateful for what a wonderful father he is. he has mourned our loss just as much as i have and i'm grateful to have him by my side through this. he gave me a beautiful priesthood blessing the night we found out and it has given me immense comfort and a greater understanding of our Savior's atonement. i'm grateful that we aren't alone in this. i'm grateful to know that Jesus Christ walks with us.

there's no revelation on what happens to the spirits of miscarried babies. so this isn't doctrine, but it is my hope/wish/belief that our little one will get to come down again, that this wasn't their one chance for a body here on earth. if that's true, and it is my deepest hope that it is true, then this isn't 'until we meet again, someday in heaven' but instead 'soon you'll be in my arms and i'll kiss your face and say it was worth the wait.'

…

little bean baby journal, final entry
december 7, 2013
My angel. We found out yesterday that you won't be coming. I knew you were gone before we even got to the dr. office for the ultrasound. They said you stopped growing almost three weeks ago, so you actually left awhile ago. I wish I had known it then. I wish I had missed you right when you left. A mama should know when her baby is gone. A mama should know. 
I only carried you for a few weeks but you're just a much mine as Luc. I am yours and you are mine, always always. I hope you get to come again. I hope I get to hold you and kiss you and watch you run around with your big brother. No matter what, your papa and I love you so very much.

FULFILLED

the new era magazine is asking for 400-500 word essays from young mothers on how or why they are blessed by their choice to be a mother, despite the social pressures to do otherwise. this is my essay. you can write one too! comment for details! 

lately, my days are filled with stories and trains and blocks and curious george. there's a bum to change and a sippy to refill and lots of time spent crawling around on the floor, growling like a lion and chasing after the little boy who's giggling so hard he can't stand up straight. he covers my face in big slobbery, open-mouth kisses and holds tight to my neck when he's tired. he throws everything into the toilet when i'm not looking and stashes smashed grapes and half-eaten cookies under the couch. he can scream until i'm ready to cry and then seconds later, climb into my lap and sweetly hand me a story, happy as can be.

i wouldn't trade it for anything.

i've learned that we can't expect one thing or person to bring us complete fulfillment in life. we are all unique people with complex needs and desires- spiritual, emotional, mental, physical. i've learned that being a mother doesn't always provide everything i need for a happy, balanced life. there are parts of me that are better fulfilled by a date night with my husband, or a peaceful session in the temple, or even a good book.

but the parts of me that are fulfilled by motherhood are the best parts of me.

as a mother, i get to play. i get to be the tickle monster and dig in the dirt, build towers just to knock them over, and experience the incredible joy that comes from watching my son laugh, enjoy his world, and do something he loves.

as a mother, i get to teach. i sing primary songs and the abc's, i make animal sounds and count ten toes and ten fingers. my testimony of the gospel grows deeper and stronger as i teach my son about his heavenly father and his big brother, jesus christ. my knowledge of His plan for me is reaffirmed everyday as i teach -and learn from- this perfect little spirit in my home.

as a mother, i get to nuture. i kiss owies and rock a tired boy to sleep. i nurture him with all the gentleness i have- gentleness i was given specifically for this task. i feel my worth so keenly when i nurture and love, encourage and comfort. it is one of my very favorite things about being a mother- being his safe place, his comforter after life's bumps and bruises.

i'm so grateful for the incredible blessing and privilege it is to be his mama. i'm grateful for the qualities motherhood is bringing out in me, for the fulfillment i get from this angelic calling.

i wouldn't trade it for anything.

I THINK

i think about someday a lot. anyone else do this? at first it was someday when i go to college, and someday when i get married, and then someday when i have a baby. now it's someday when we're done with law school and someday when i can shop at anthropologie, and also someday when we have two babies. i'm always thinking about someday. 

my first year of parenting was a challenge of the 'living in the moment' variety. i knew the minute i laid eyes on luc that if i kept focusing on things down the road, it would be at the expense of those precious, {sometimes} quiet moments i was living right then, and i did NOT want to look back and wish i had enjoyed my newborn a little more, instead of wishing he was two already. so starting day one, i made a conscious effort to bask in the moment, to focus only on tuesday or nap time or tummy time. this is not so easy to do when your newborn is fussy and the thought of a two year old who sleeps and doesn't cry is like a drug to your tired brain. needless to say, it wasn't an overnight change of mindset for me, but eventually i got into a good habit of enjoying the little everyday things more and dwelling on tomorrow's moments less. and i have to admit, it felt so good! to not be constantly mapping out my life, making plans way too far ahead of time, or worrying about things that were pointless to worry about, sweet freedom!

lately though, i've found myself slipping back into my old ways- stressing about orlando taking the bar next summer, and when should we have another baby, and also where are we going to live next year?!?! it's pointless stress because there's absolutely nothing that can be done about anything just yet and so why worry about it? it'll be stressful enough when it gets here, no point in adding to it now.

so!

i'm going to renew my daily exercises of focusing on the little things, the small victories, the funny moments. i'm going to think about the hilarious grumpy face that luc likes to pull when he doesn't want to eat whatever i'm trying to feed him. i'm going to think about my handsome hubby while he's at work and plan a private little date night for him after luc goes to bed. i'm going to think about whether or not i should cut my hair off for the summer, and how many bowls of ice cream did i have today? am i meeting my summertime ice cream consumption quota? i'm going to bask in lengthy nap times and lazy strolls to the park where we will hog the swings until nap time comes around again. i'm going to think about my favorite, happy things of every day this summer and leave the someday thinking in it's rightful place- for someday.

i feel better already. happy today to you!

I AM

one afternoon, when i was about seventeen, my dad gestured at a red gas can in the garage and told me to go put the gas in the car. so, like the wonderfully obedient daughter that i was, i walked straight out to our rusty blue '84 honda, and gently set the gas can on the floor in the back seat. i couldn't imagine why dad would want the gas in the car, but he said to do it, so i did it.

lets just say that later, when dad ran out of gas and called me to ask why i didn't put the gas in the car and confusedly, i told him it WAS in the car... well, it's been the family joke ever since. lindsey put the gas IN the car, hilarious!

i wish i could say this was a one time thing, but unfortunately, it happens a lot. not because i'm dumb- really, i'm smart. i can read books and write papers with the best of them. but sometimes, my common sense is a bit lacking. my dad affectionately called it 'being an airhead.'

i am not a morning person. not even a get-up-early-on-black-friday morning person. according to my college roommates and orlando, my pre-9am perma-scowl is pretty funny. i prefer not to eat, talk, or hurry before 9am. i can recall more than one emotional breakdown on a sunday morning because i was being hurried {the dreaded 9am church}.

i'm forgetful and directionally challenged. it pains me to admit this because i hate to be that stereotypical girl who doesn't know which way is north, but most of the time, i really don't know which way is north. i never remember to turn off the light when i leave a room and my ability to dress seasonally appropriate is horrible.

this is not to say that i'm helpless, however. i may get lost and take twice as long to get somewhere, but i can get there on my own. i am incredibly resourceful and i catch on quickly. i miss college- i am happiest when i'm learning something new.

i crave sunshine and ice cream. i am a sucker for really great chick flicks, like you've got mail and ever after. my mom and dad went on a date to see ever after in the theater when it came out, and my mom loved it so much, she came home and woke me up and sat on the edge of my bed and told me the whole story. in my cozy, drowsy mind, laying there listening to her happy voice, i was certain no greater love story had ever been told, and it's been my favorite since.

i love primary songs and def leppard. i like to dance in my kitchen. i try to show luc something amazing everyday.

i am a friend. i am a daughter. i am a big sister. i am a wife. i am a mother.

i am happy.

I WAS

i was ten when my parents loaded my three brothers and i into our light blue minivan and headed across the united states for a month long road trip. it was august and the sun was bright and hot and the road stretched east farther than i had ever dreamed. we drove away from the mountains, across colorado and into miles of tall green cornfields and a big blue sky that touched the horizon on every side of us. for the first time, i felt tiny in this huge world. it had never occurred to me that beyond my little mountain valley, there were places where one could actually see infinity. i brought books to read in the car, but instead i spent most of the trip staring out of the window at places i had already read about. kansas was flat and yellow and my brothers and i counted well over a hundred water towers. missouri was green and damp and the fruit stands were plentiful. we passed an enormous tobacco farm in kentucky and my mom, not knowing what plant we were staring at, oohed and aahed over the big green leaves and declared that she wanted one for her flower bed. in mississippi we drove into a rainstorm that was so violent, it made driving impossible, so we camped out in our minivan under an overpass with 20 other cars for an hour and watched the water come down in sheets. it never rains like that in utah.

we stopped driving when we reached the gulf of mexico in mobile, alabama. though it was a gorgeous beachfront city, i just could not love mobile- it smelled like fish and felt like a sauna. muggy and stinky alabama- i was horrified that people lived there whole lives in such torture. i might have begged my parents to turn the car around and get us out of there. but we stayed for a week, and by the end of it i didn't want to leave. because although i couldn't love mobile, i was head over heels for the gulf. oh. my. goodness. the beach (my first beach ever) was white and soft, the water was seventy-five degrees and cerulean. the waves were HUGE. my dad stood out in the water up to his chest and as a big wave rolled in, he would pick one of us up and throw us over the top. to our sheer delight, over and over again we went flying over the waves and crashing into the ocean. even now, my toes curl in anticipation and joy at the memory of it. it was the thrill of my young life, that week on the beach. i declared i never wanted anything more but to stay forever, to be covered in salty, sandy summertime for the rest of my days.

we had to leave of course, but oh what a week we had! my brothers and i chased each other down the beach, built sandcastles, and i collected a huge mason jar of the most beautiful tiny shells i had ever seen to take home. i carefully packed my jar in the minivan like the prized possession it was, and we were on our way. we headed north from mobile, nauvoo was our next destination. on the way, the sun beat down on my precious seashells and the van gradually got smellier and smellier until it was downright rancid in there. seriously, i will never forget that smell, it was lethal. finally, my dad couldn't stand it any longer so he pulled into a gas station, and my parents proceeded to tear apart the car, searching for the food or dirty diaper that was causing us all such misery. after an hour, there was nothing to be found and my dad paced the length of the van in frustration while we let it air out, hoping it would somehow help. as we climbed back in, my mom saw my jar of seashells and inexplicably started laughing hysterically. she held the jar up to my dad victoriously- apparently, my little shells still had living sea creatures in them when i picked them up on the beach and in the hot sun they had died, leaving behind an unbearable stench. my dad did not think it was as funny as my mom did, and neither did i when he unceremoniously dropped my jar into the gas station trash can. unfortunately for us all, the smell- though much fainter- lingered in our van the entire drive to nauvoo.

we reached nauvoo and left the windows rolled down while we explored the redbrick town of our pioneer ancestors. we saw it all- the brick yard, the blacksmith, the general store. we rode the horse pulled wagon and listened to missionaries in pioneer costume tell us about the men and women who built nauvoo, loved nauvoo, and left nauvoo in hope of finding zion. we walked down to the mississippi river where the saints crossed it in frozen february, and i cried thinking about all the children following their parents on a journey west that they probably didn't survive. those stories in primary were no longer stories. they were real lives, histories, memories. i remember the realness of it all was overwhelming sometimes, and i wished it wasn't true, that no one actually had to go through what they went through, that they could go back to just being stories people told. but once you've seen it, you can't go back, and now i'm grateful for that. i think in nauvoo at ten years old, i gained a testimony for myself of the gospel i love so well, for the first time. in nauvoo, i loved my church because i loved it, not because my parents loved it.

from nauvoo, illinois we headed west, we headed home. somewhere along the way, we got chased by a couple of tornados and the van broke down and my mom declared that never again would she take a roadtrip with us children and my dad took scott out to pee on the side of many a freeway. we got home worn and sandy and tired, and there was laundry for days, and it took three vacuumings to get the van clean. but oh it was so worth it. at least to me, it was the trip of my young life and i was changed in all the most wonderful ways by it.

in our little roadtrip across those thirteen states, i was given the world.

me, alabama botanical garden, 10 yrs old

Blogging Challenge

as part of a blogging challenge i'm doing this year, i am working on essays using the following prompts- hopefully i'll get one out every couple of weeks.

anyone want to join me?

watch for my first essay this week!

what sinus infection week taught me

that one day when my house was clean

sinus infection fiesta 2013 struck our house with vengeance this past week. all three of us got it and, oh, we got it baaaaad. 

for a solid week, i didn't do anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. that means no getting dressed, no laundry, no dishes, no cooking, no sweeping. i nursed luc and orlando and i ate whatever was easiest. we napped whenever luc napped, and orlando and i traded off taking care of luc in the afternoons so the other person could get an extra nap in. we watched two entire seasons of the office {all caught up!}. 

that's it. i couldn't muster the energy to do anything else.

as one would expect, the house got MESSY while we were sick. the dirty laundry piled up and spilled over onto the floor. dirty dishes covered the countertops and the stove. the floors were dusty and crumby. the bathroom floor was covered in wadded up tissues. and that was just the beginning! of course, we were super sick so i didn't let myself feel guilty for letting it all go- sometimes these things happen, and it's ok, i told myself. 

and that's true.

on monday, i finally started feeling better. better enough to get ready for the day, better enough to get out of the house for lunch + a target run, better enough to get up off the couch and play with luc. but you're not better enough to tackle this messy house! i told myself. save that for a day when you are feeling much, much better. 

and save it i did.

yet, i found that the longer i waited to put my house in order, the longer that last little icky feeling lingered. i just couldn't get back to feeling 100% and it was driving me crazy. i'd much rather be really sick and then be done with it then feel a little sick for days and days on end. ugh, it was awful, and i was FED UP. finally, i woke up the other morning, determined to cross everything off my to-do list, live or die. i made my bed, tackled the laundry, washed the dishes, got ready, swept, dusted, and cleaned the bathroom- all before the time luc's late morning nap was over. i lit my candle and sat on the couch to survey my sparkling clean home- and suddenly realized i felt completely better. no more icky sicky feeling, no more headache- completely gone, just like the mess in my house. and i sat there thinking, no wonder heavenly father lists 'house of order, house of cleanliness' in his description of His house. in a clean home there is health and happiness and intelligence and freedom and true relaxation. in a mess, that's all a lot harder to find.

my house still isn't always clean, and there will definitely be times when it will all be completely neglected for a week or two. and that's ok. 

i'm just going to try and remember what wonderful work it is to set it all right again, and breath the clean air.

everyday i'll try

almost eight months into this motherhood gig and i feel like i'm finally catching my stride. that's not to say i have got it all together, no sir. but i no longer look around, bewildered, for the real mama to come rescue us.

every part of life has its own rhythm, its own pulse, ebb and flow, and i can feel this one in my veins, matching the pumping of my heart, the beat of my life. every day is beautiful in its simplicity. we get up, we eat breakfast on the floor. we get dressed and take a nap {well, one of us naps}. we pick up the house, run the errands, read our favorite stories over and over. play patty cake and zoom zoom airplane. nibble some baby toes and nurse to sleep when all the nibbling has worn us out. we snuggle and make a mess and giggle and roll around on the floor and there are always a few meltdowns thrown in there somewhere. then its bath time, bed time, goodnight. the hardest part of bed time is the realization that hits me every time i look down at his sweet, sleeping face- that the angel in my arms is growing up faster than i can memorize every little detail of his sweet round face, big brown eyes and fuzzy hair.

after all the lights are off and i lay in bed, the guilt of the day washes over me. i didn't play enough. we didn't read enough. i was on my phone too much. i let myself get frustrated. i didn't show him something amazing. i am forgetting too many of the best moments, the best things about my baby boy.

i don't know what it is about motherhood that makes it so easy to feel so guilty. maybe its that i am imperfect and he is perfect and i can feel in my soul the weight of this responsibility.

being his mother- the keeper and teacher of this perfect little spirit- is the highest standard i'll ever be held to and i know that i don't, and i won't, always measure up. but i promise everyday i'll try.

everyday i'll try.

WHO WEARS THE PANTS

i was raised in a traditional mormon household, with a good father who led family home evening and an excellent mother who made pot roast and mashed potatoes for sunday dinner. it was a happy childhood- i am the oldest and the only girl- and my brothers and i laughed and fought and played and our favorite thing was always cowboy bed sleepovers in my room. blessedly, i was never raised with the idea that my brothers were more important or more loved or even with the notion that the man of the house was solely in charge of the house. my mother taught me that a patriarch was only a patriarch with a matriarch by his side.

when i grew up, i went to byu and signed up for a few women's studies courses- mostly because i was curious as to what about women one studied. our biological need for chocolate perhaps? or maybe something about how women are from venus? i was completely clueless that outside of my little house there was an ongoing battle for equality and respect and resources. it was new news to me, and i was quickly impassioned with it all. i devoured everything my women's studies professors taught, i discussed the issues with my female classmates, and i got a job doing research for the woman stats project- headed by the incredible feminist, {my first one!} dr. valerie hudson. i made a lot of bold, feminist friends, and i took notes on everything they talked about, everything they cared about. my mind was hungry and their ideas were thanksgiving dinner. i wanted seconds! thirds! they expanded my way of thinking and showed me a bigger world. dr. hudson birthed her babies in the bathtub- happily!- and lived to tell about it. she was the first person to ever tell me that a woman's body- my body- was a force of creation, a divinely intuitive temple, and that i could trust it to carry and birth sweet little souls without instructions from modern medicine. she was the first woman i knew who believed that she was the very best kind of mother when she didn't stay home full-time. these new ideas thrilled me, their confidence and intelligence was exhilarating. that was my favorite thing about these women- they were astoundingly intelligent. and ambitious. and ever so incredibly able to make a huge difference in this world. i told myself that this was exactly how i was going to raise my daughters, that this is the gift i would give them- the gift of feminism.

but that was then. now i find myself wondering if i'm even a feminist at all? most of these women i learned from, studied with, and wanted to raise my daughters to be like have {with a few exceptions} left the lds church. they couldn't find, within the gospel, the equality they were looking for, or the support to do what they were so ambitious to do. they couldn't reconcile the two truths. so then i am asking myself if it's possible to be, to truly be a feminist and a mormon too? can the two peacefully coexist within me? i haven't been able to get it off my mind for months now.

and then this whole pants thing shows up on the news and suddenly my exact thoughts are being thrown out into the open for public discussion. facebook discussions, of course, get heated, and women everywhere are suddenly up in arms on their respective sides. so i sat down to really ponder and figure out, once and for all, the answer for me. am i a feminist? do i want to wear pants to church? can i love my church, live its teachings, and also want things about it to change?

and since you asked, here's my answer.

we are all instructed- commanded even- to ask questions of our heavenly father, of our religion. it's in the scriptures to 'ask and ye shall receive.' no one is expected to accept the traditions and culture of the church and never ask if maybe there is something better. because sometimes, i do believe there is something better. there are age-old traditions that run deep in my church that have zero doctrinal standing and that do not give equal respect and value to the incredibly divine and very much equal role of womanhood. i don't think these traditions are divinely instituted- i think they have just been around so long, it's proving very difficult to change them. i believe heavenly father values and loves me {and all women} as equally as he does any man, and that in a perfect world, his church would {and someday, will} do the same. my heart is full of joy and hope for that day.

i also believe that no matter what questions or needs we women have, the answers can all be found within the gospel. not in our meetinghouses or our stake parties or our ward members, but in the doctrines of the gospel, the words of the scriptures, and that sweet blessing of personal, spiritual revelation- all the answers, all the support, all the value and respect we feminists are searching for can be found there. i can love my church, live this gospel, and look forward to small miracles of positive change here- because i believe that they are coming. i believe that there is a plan for all of us, women and men, and that it's a perfect, equal, and wonderful beyond our comprehension.

this is what i want to teach my daughters, this is my gift of feminism to them. you are intelligent and kind, able and powerful. you are beloved equally in your heavenly father's eyes. he has a plan and a marvelous purpose for you. ask questions. seek answers through scripture study and prayer. wear pants to church if you feel so inspired. know that the deep well of knowledge and equality you seek is here, at the Savior's feet. 

pregnant = beautiful?

for the first 8 months of this pregnancy, i loved my body. before then, i didn't hate it, but i didn't love it either. i have always been more on the soft, cushy side, never lean and athletic, and though i was thin, i was never very thrilled with my pesky love handles, curvy midsection, and {as my dad affectionately calls them} thunder thighs.

then i was pregnant, and i suddenly found myself completely in love with those same curves, even before much had changed. because those curves had a purpose, they were growing a baby. i imagined him so cozy and well-fed in there, wrapped up in my {now} luscious curves, and i declared that i never wanted anything more then to be like this always, curvy and ample and feminine. i think that was what made all the difference for me- i felt incredibly feminine, so womanly and delicious and it was divine.

but thirty-eight weeks hit and my curves just got to be too big for me. instead of feeling attractive, i now feel like a roly poly puff ball, a waddling tugboat of very short and very wide proportions. all that ample sexiness has disappeared, leaving me huffing and puffing this heavy body around with an embarassing amount of clumsiness.

i'm trying to find the beauty in these last few days/weeks because i really miss feeling so comfortable in my skin, i miss loving that big belly/booty/chest/everything else in the mirror. i'm trying to see the beauty in a job well done, in a body that has successfully carried and nurtured a baby til he is healthy and strong enough to come out. the beauty in this body that has allowed this baby to stretch and grow and thrive.

i'm trying to see the beauty in this 39.5 week belly, and love it too.

5 things i'm afraid to tell you

i was really inspired by meg and her honesty in this post yesterday.

complete honesty has always scared me a bit. of course, i brave this fear with orlando and those i'm closest to because i know they love me, no matter what. but with everyone else, i get apprehensive. i fear judgement, embarassment, rejection, confrontation. this frustrates me to no end, i'll have you know. i've always wanted to be one of those brave, bold women who speak the truth and speak it with love- even when they're talking about themselves. one of those women, i am not {yet}.

in an effort {baby steps!} to face this fear, here are five things i've been afraid to admit.

1. i am a quitter. i have really big dreams- of painting masterpieces, writing children's books, opening a little chocolate shop, doula training, chopping off my hair.  i dream up every one of these things, and i can see myself doing all of them and LOVING it. so i excitedly begin to practice and brainstorm and scheme... but after a few weeks, i tire of practicing- whether it's painting, writing, studying or baking. i soon talk myself back into the regular everyday because it's easier and more comfortable. and i'm a succor for comfortable.

2. i love my curly hair. i used to curse these darn curls, they were the frizzy bane of my existance all through high school. then somewhere along the way, they somehow became my favorite {physical} thing about myself {though they struggle in this east coast humidity!} but i normally would never admit it because i really struggle admitting that i like something about myself. i'm ever the evader of compliments, and having to list something good about myself makes me uncomfortable. self-confidence is obviously not one of my strengths.

3. i am a terrible feminist. i had a mentor in college and she was incredible. she was a well-educated, strong woman, and i loved every word that came out of her mouth- she had one of the most brilliant, beautiful minds i had ever encountered. from her came my introduction to feminism and i ate it up like candy. i wanted to think like her, to see the world like she did. for the year i worked with her, i soaked up every idea and mantra and when i graduated, i tried to take it all with me. but the 'traditional' thinking of my upbringing has prevailed and i often find myself thinking very un-feminist thoughts, or accepting things the way they are, or ascribing myself to a very strict gender role- all things dr. hudson would probably not be proud of. outwardly, i declare myself a feminist, but inside my head, really i am not. i have long been wanting to find a way to reconcile the two, but have yet to figure out how.

4. i have a board on pinterest dedicated to healthy recipes i will never make. i do not want to eat healthier. i will probably never willingly eat healthier. i care about my body and i do want to treat it well. i love fruits and vegetables, drinking lots of water, and i make myself exercise. but i draw the line when it comes to giving up what i love to eat. men are that they might have joy and really good food is one of this life's greatest joys, in my strong opinion. so bring on the ice cream and the cheesecake and unlimited guacamole!

5. i still feel like i'm that really uncool girl from high school, wishing and wanting to fit in with the popular crowd. i'm surrounded by amazing friends who have qualities and talents i only dream of, and all the blogs i read showcase women who are prettier, more talented, better dressed, better versed, and more successful. most days, i feel like that girl who's begging to be included but has nothing to bring to the party. it's another one of those things about my self-confidence {see #2} i need to work on.

there i said it!
now tell me, what are yours?

birth

i have a dream.

it is a dream of birthing this baby boy. in my mind the scene is bursting and busy, quiet and heavenly, love-filled and happy- all at once. it is all the powers and passions of creation and life and love and family and motherhood and fatherhood in a veil-shattering moment, laid screaming and new on my chest.

i know this boy, i knew him before. but since i can't remember his face or his laugh, his cry and those ten teeny fingers, i dream that our first mortal meeting is something perfect. something straight from heaven. and as i've pondered this dream and all the emotions and self-discovery that's wrapped up in it, i've learned that birth is important to me. birthing matters to me. more so then just the end result- the process matters to me.

yes out of this experience, my number one wish is a healthy baby. but that is not my single wish. out of this experience i would also like something transcendent for me. a spiritual manifestation of all that is creation and motherhood, if you will. so while i know that how birthing actually plays out on baby boy's birthday is out of my control, i am planning and practicing and studying and readying my mind and body for the birthing dream.

i'm told a lot that this is a foolish endeavor. the dream is just that- a lovely dream, but completely unrealistic. 'you can't control it, so don't make plans!' i'm told. but prepare and ye shall not fear, i'm promised. so i do. and however it works itself out, i have a very good feeling it will be just right.