Motherhood: A trial of fire

There's a concept I've never spoken out loud.

It felt too vulnerable and scary.

I don't even know that the voice constantly running in my head had put it into words. 

Because words make it real and to be honest- I didn't want it to be real. 

Because shame, and expectation, and upward progression... you know?

Then my sister in law threw it out in a family conversation one day. 

We were laughing about our kids throwing fits during quarantine and how we're all losing our minds and our tempers a little and all of a sudden she said, "I think I was a better person before I became a mom." 

It was my actual worst fear spoken out loud- and it hit me square in the chest. I had been scared to death, because for a while now, I've been feeling like I've become a worse person through motherhood instead of a better one. Because isn't that what people say? Motherhood made me more of myself, and filled with love, and stretched me, and made me so much better and less selfish....?

I had been listening from my bed (being pregnant and nauseous will do that to a girl) but I stood up and walked over to let her know that she had just spoken my truth. 

Immediately every mother on that call laughed hysterically (in a very 'we feel you girl' type way) and my mother-in-law chimed in that she had said the same thing to my father-in-law when she was a young mother. 

But how could this be?! Eternal progression! Why don't the trenches of motherhood and family life seem to be such a stretch for the "more of myself" moms?

But what if that progression.. the eternal kind... isn't a straight upward trajectory? What if you're on a path that leads to elevation 100, and you're at 95... but the Lord wants you to reach 1000, so He puts you on a path that starts back at 85, but you have potential on that path to get to 700? Divorce, death, job loss, failure, and radical change all can seem like a set back in the moment but often they put us on this beautiful (albeit often painful) growth trajectory. What if ease and comfort and routine and warm sunshine aren't the point? What if that trajectory is the point?

Anything that's worth doing is hard, so they say (whoever "they" is") but would it be hard, or challenging at all if it was just straight upward? If there weren't paths with some elevation loss, cloud cover, or shrubs blocking the view?

I think if we're working hard and constantly feeling the fruit of our labor it's more of a carrot before the horse situation that requires no faith. And although there have certainly been stretches of motherhood that have felt love-soaked and sacred (I always think of Rory at 18 months), I've had to practice a lot of faith. I haven't always been able to see the carrot. There hasn't always been love and bathtubs of giggles and hugs and sloppy kisses and I love yous before I lay them in their beds each night and it hasn't been all puzzles and sunshine and tickle fights each day either.

I think motherhood is the epitome of trial by fire. And I'm practicing faith for that gleaming diamond I'm turning into (I pray) at the end. I'm certainly still a lump of coal in the midst for now, but I get glimpses every once in a while. Of the diamond, the house being built, the majesty of the mountain through the shrubs. And it reminds me what path I'm on, and helps me continue to forge forward. On days there are carrots and on days when there aren't. 

how I do it

I do a lot of things.
I say that, but there's days (not infrequently) that I feel like I've accomplished nothing at the end of the day.
But every time I talk on social media about the things I'm working on, I inevitably get some version of this question.....

"BUT WHERE ARE THE KIDS?!"
Basically, you folks want to know how I do it and have two wild, needy, hungry, perfect, sweet, loud minions running around. And it's a good question that I would probably ask if I was outside my life looking in, too. So this is my attempt to answer it, because a simple phrase won't do the question justice. (Don't we all wish it was as simple as that.  Can I be Molly Weasley and have brooms picking up after my children all day.... ?? #simplefix but I digress)

First, I'm going to tell you a story about the moment my pain to stay still became bigger than my pain to start.

When Rory was three weeks old we moved into a foreclosure. I mean, it didn't have to be gutted.... but it was definitely a foreclosure. The yard was made of weeds our dog could get lost in, the walls had all been painted a hideous brown by the foreclosure company, the carpets reeked of urine, and there were egg stains on the front from some teenage kids. Cute. But Overwhelming. The only thing we hired out was the floor installation (after a huge debacle ripping the nasty carpet out which included baby Rory strapped to my chest and a very mean trespassing goose.... a story for another time). 

We were over the moon, regardless of the flaws. And Rory was colicky, and Jay was working long hours and exhausted every night, and I was totally overwhelmed with both my new situation and the enormity of the projects ahead. (As a side note, I was raised in a house with a dad who preferred to hire out all maintenance, so although I had the heart for it, whether I had the skill was tbd)

Rory didn't nap at all at first, so I spent a lot of time holding her through naptime and staring at the ugly brown walls (as I watched countless hours of Gilmore Girls) but then we got over that hurdle and I thought maybe I could do some things. But I didn't. EVERY, SINGLE wall and ceiling in this house needed to be painted... at a minimum. Not to mention the 137 nail holes in what must have been a poster-clad teenager's room upstairs. So I waited for Jay and I to find some magical hour where we weren't exhausted and didn't have more pressing projects that required a team. Months passed, and it just didn't happen. And I looked at those walls every day. And they were not quite sparking joy if you catch my drift.

But one day I had the realization that if I was intentional with the hour and a half that Rory napped each day, in one week I could have a room painted. And in 52 maybe I could actually do this myself. And I was tired of waiting. So I would prep before she fell asleep. Get my paint clothes on, get all the tools prepped and ready, and the moment she went down I would paint. I felt so empowered. Because I've been where you are, sitting and waiting for a time when I can do all these things I want to do. And I've been on the other side hustling with whatever time I have. Not scrolling, not waiting, not tidying, not delaying, just hustling. (There are still days... lots of them... when I don't hustle like I should. But I've worked on it and I have more days than not when I chase dreams in my downtime)

So if you aren't here for stories here's the four things that I think are the most crucial to understanding how I do the things I do.

1- Just use what you have.
I don't use fancy tools, and we've honestly never had much of a budget for these sort of things. I pay for the stuff I want to do with birthday giftcards and side hustle money selling used clothes. For painting the exterior of our house I literally started by using a roller because I just really wanted to start and if it took all summer I was going to do it (Luckily, a neighbor saw me and took pity on me and my gumption... and we learned how to use his sprayer as we went!) So learn on youtube, borrow tools when necessary, but mostly start where you are using what you have and go from there. In the words of Alison Robertson- DONE IS FUN!

2- Be ok with incremental progress
This is huge- because it's not going to feel like an HGTV makeover show. Immediate gratification is nice, but working your tail off doing things yourself is so much less glamorous. There is sawdust and unfinished projects taking up space, etc. etc. etc. Sometimes for months. depending on the project. (It's easy to think "oh my gosh! 8 posts ago she was starting and now she's done! But I started my closet in October so let that serve as a little reality check for us all) We have never had a nanny (although I just recently struck a trade deal for a couple hours a week with the girl down the street and I. AM. STOKED) or a housecleaner, and for the first four years of the process I didn't even have a car so just do what you can. I've learned to leverage mornings, naptimes, clothing resale apps, and amazon prime. You can do anything you set your mind to, but just set your expectations on incremental but consistent(ish) progress... at least at first.

3- Your house won't be clean.
It just won't, and from watching/knowing other women doing things like this (and not like this)  I just can assure you that if you spend every spare moment in a week working on something that takes you away from your daily routine and chores, YOUR HOUSE WILL BE WRECKED. And unless you have a house cleaner, that's just a price you have to pay. Somebody said to me yesterday, "But your house is probably always clean" and I laughed out loud. They obviously don't know me well enough yet, because it's just not. really. ever.

4- Sometimes the kids will watch TV and eat less than ideal snacks
This is self explanatory, but I always think of my kids playing in the dirt (oh, you thought we had a backyard!? Wrong you were!) wearing their pajamas at 3pm while we painted the house exterior..... and I think they ate cheese sticks and cereal for dinner. You can't have it all. The illusion of a perfectly clean house, perfectly groomed children, and sh*t getting done all at the same time is just that... an illusion.

So there it is. I work slowly, with what I have, sometimes with help but a lot by myself. Some days my kids are a little wilder and the work halts or progresses more slowly. But I've learned to manage expectations and be pleased by progress. Both my time and my budget are small, but my impact can be big if I just give it time. I'll be over here working if you need me.

And now a couple before and afters, because what's more satisfying than that?!
*and a blurred out bra because there aint no going back to take new 'Before' pictures now!*

don't you dare let them make you feel little

This story has been coming to my mind over and over lately. It was in college and I was on a date with the kind of boy who just couldn't make up his mind about me (I encountered a lot of those). It was like... I looked really good on paper and there wasn't anything "wrong" with me that they could put a finger on, so they just waited. Hoping they would like me enough to be serious... eventually. And as you can likely guess, that eventually never did come. Not for any one of them.

So here I was on my umpteenth date with this boy. He was handsome and older than me and we were driving in his car going somewhere. The windows were down, so it must have been summer. Somehow (gosh I have no idea how) the subject came around to deodorant or things that tasted bad or who even knows. But I said, "Have you ever tasted deodorant though? It. tastes. AWFUL.". He looked at me like I was some kind of oddity in a museum and laughed at me like I was an idiot.

Then, he proceeded to make me feel little.
He taunted and teased and wouldn't let it go. He kept making me smaller and smaller.
He made me feel crazy.

I kept trying to defend myself, but he kept coming back to how on earth I would know what it tastes like. And I felt so small and belittled and and embarrassed and couldn't think of why.

Maybe I am weird, I thought (this is called gaslighting, look it up, and run if you are dating this person). I knew there was some logical reason I knew what I knew, but I felt so little sitting there in the front seat that I just awkwardly laughed and tried to hold back tears. 

I forgot about that conversation for a long time until one day I licked my finger and tried to rub off a spot on my shirt. But what I thought was toothpaste wasn't toothpaste- it was deodorant. And when I went to lick my thumb to get the rest off, that AWFUL taste came flooding back to my memory and I remembered the perfectly normal, very human thing that I had done to learn what deodorant tastes like. 

I was mad at myself for a long time over that. I had let him make me feel little when he had no right to. I could have said something, I should have said something!

Nobody ever has a right to your feelings of self worth, but there will be people who will take it and run anyways.  You know, maybe he was raised like that. Maybe that was a knee-jerk, nervous response to a comment that made him feel uncomfortable (because heaven help them, but some people are weird talking about hygiene?). Maybe he has grown out of it, or realized it...  I don't know. What I do know is this: I'm not little. I'm not worth a little, I don't shine a little, my potential doesn't equate to a little. And nobody holds the right to make me feel that way. 

And I should have known in that very moment that I didn't want to be on constant dates with someone who made me feel anything less. I didn't then, but I do now. And I got really lucky to get Jay who thinks I can do anything in the whole world.

Taking the hard medicine

Rory tested positive for the flu almost two years ago at the end of March, which happened to coincide with the start of croup and a nether-regions irritation requiring baking soda baths (thanks, sensitive skin). The poor thing was miserable. There were high fevers and body aches and gnarly, painful coughs, etc etc. But honestly? The hardest thing was the tamiflu.

We caught the flu in time to get her started on tamiflu, which was a miracle for this (then) pregnant mama. I would have taken anything to shorten those symptoms. But after the first dose she decided she didn't like it, nor did she want to take it.

There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, literally. There were, of course, preemptive conversations trying to explain why she needed to take the medicine. There was bribing and sugar coating and every trick our frazzled minds could think of. But then, there was flat refusal. Unwavering, tireless, strong-willed refusal.

But the medicine still had to be taken. And it had to be taken now.

Our sweet (and spicy) two-year old didn't care about tamiflu's timeline, or mine. So weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth there was. There was screaming. There was blood. There was hitting and biting and every sort of fight. I would do all I could to get it in, but often had to bring out reinforcements and hold her down. She was furious, and miserable. But the medicine had to be taken and we knew it would be best for her to do it now.

Every day I tried to explain once again that if she just took the medicine (emphasizing that I knew it was yucky) it could be over sooner and we could feel well and do all sorts of fun things. I tried to tell her that this was going to help her get better faster... because remember how bad it feels to have the flu?

Then one day a switch flipped. Nothing had changed, but she decided she would take the medicine. And take it she did- Without so much as a whimper.

The warm sun streamed through the window as we sat there on her little bed together and I had this epiphany. Really hard things happen to us in our lives. The theoretical flu hits us out of nowhere and brings us to our knees, hiding under covers with our bodies shaking. Lucky for us, there is medicine. There is a healing balm provided for each ailment. And there's a Savior who knows the required treatment. And it might not taste like cookies. It might taste like forgiveness when it's hard. It might taste like repentance. It might taste like work and therapy and letting go.

Does taking the provided medicine make our ailments disappear immediately? No. And certainly the more painful and serious the flu the longer it may take to heal. But does that mean that we shirk our medicine after the first dose? Of course not.

And like my girl, we can fight the medicine as the Lord tries so lovingly to administer it. Though he doesn't force it on us, we may weep and wail and gnash under the pressure of knowing what we should do and NOT wanting to do it. Honestly, we may be sick for a long time before we open our eyes to see him sitting there, on our little twin bed in the sunlight- waiting. We may fight the medicine he offers for days, we may fight it for years.

But God willing there will come a day if we so choose, when we just stop fighting. When for some reason it clicks, or maybe we are just so desperate to get rid of the sludge in our chest that we sit in the sunlight and take the medicine. That we revel in the recovery. And I hope that day comes sooner than later, where we sit in the sunlight with the Lord and let him heal us.

sweat the small stuff

We've had a million showings on our house and just generally a LOT to do after those were over the last couple months. And gosh, I'm tired.

But through all the cleaning and prepping and packing, as it does, my mind has been doing a lot of thinking and drawing parallels and coming to conclusions. Something that has come to the forefront of my mind the most is this concept of the small stuff vs. the big stuff.

We all put off the big things sometimes. I do, at minimum. The mopping floors, cleaning all the baseboards, the huge painting projects, etc. etc. But you know what I put off more often? The small stuff. The packing a couple more boxes in free moments here and there. The keeping up with the dishes before there's a whole sink full. There finishing a small project instead of starting a new one. The taking five minutes to meditate...to read...to shower.

Satan has this insane way of making us feel hopeless. The "I haven't done it in several days/months/years, so if I don't do it for one more day it will make no difference." "Or I'm so overwhelmed with everything I don't know where to start."

So instead of taking a small step and putting another couple drops in that bucket of things we have to do, we just... don't. We waste time, we lose ourselves in social media for an hour, we look through a meaningless catalogue sitting on the counter, we stare at the wall, we start another project instead of finishing one that needs attention. Even if we just do one, or two, or three small things to put a drop in our bucket of "small stuff" each day; at the end of each week we have a dozen or more extra drops and at the end of the year we have hundreds or thousands.

What I'm really saying here is that if I/you/we sweat the small stuff.. if I put one foot in front of the other... even if they are small steps, the big stuff really seems more manageable. If I read a chapter every day, the test on the concepts seems easier. If I keep the house tidy, the deep cleaning doesn't seem so mind-blowingly huge. When I check in and keep up with my friendships, it doesn't seem like such a daunting task to call or know what to do when something catastrophic happens to them (or me). When I feel a little distance or detect a small problem between Jay and I, if I have the small conversation then it keeps bigger harder conversations from being necessary. The list could go on (and leave in a comment what situation it makes you think of for you!)

I want to be the kind of person who sees what needs to be done, and does it. I feel better on days when I'm closer to being that kind of person. And can you imagine if we had a world full of people who didn't freeze when they got overwhelmed, but instead put a drop in the bucket?

And here's Rory sitting on and falling into my massive pile of laundry, that happens to be my small stuff that was ignored and turned into big stuff right now.

God's plan and my plan

The best laid plans are no match for the mess of reality. Isn't that how that goes? 

It's true just so you know. Or at least it's proved true for me. 

And since it's Jay's birthday, I'll tell you. He wasn't what I pictured. 

I pictured tall, dark, and handsome, and super sweet. 

(Jay is most of those things, but I wouldn't define him by those specifically)

Then I dated tall, dark, handsome, and super sweet and couldn't fall in love. 

And nothing was working according to my plan, and really nothing was working at all.

So I started focusing elsewhere in my life. And when my guard was down- Jay happened. I had mission papers in for my church so I was open to it.  And it ended up being perfect, and so much better looking back than anything or anyone else.

And God knows me, because Jay is honest and dependable and loves me with the deep, abiding, true kind of love that's exactly what I need. He isn't showy, he doesn't say things he doesn't mean, and he let's me have my own wings and dream and be myself completely. 

Then we started to figure life out together.  First we felt like law school wasn't the right choice and that we should pursue tech jobs. Then we felt right about a company in Utah. Then that company ended up not being a great fit or situation and we decided to move on from after a year. Which then led us to Jay's current job, which came about through moving to Utah and rekindling friendships here, but wasn't ready for Jay's position until last fall. 

We felt right about buying a home when we moved to Utah initially, and home after home after home didn't work out for us. I was 39 weeks pregnant and still had no home to bring Rory to after she was born. It wasn't working how I pictured and certainly not how I wanted. And eventually after a lot of hassle and push and shove we ended up in our sweet foreclosure and got to work making it ours. We love our home, and our ward, and everything about the way things ended up.

And nothing went as planned. And now we feel like we should move again, and we made a fair offer on a house that seemed perfect and they refused to budge. So we looked and looked and finally found a house that seems like a more perfect fit than anything else we looked at, though it wasn't what we had in mind at all. It's a recurring theme. 

I guess what I'm saying is almost every plan I've ever made has gone completely differently than I planned for it to go. I mean I could go on and on and on. I remember feeling so lost in college because I wanted to fit the mold in my program and I didn't get the right internships or ace the right classes and it just never ended......I digress. 

But it all worked out. And sometimes it wasn't until I set my plan aside for a moment and got out of my own way that the Lord could do the work in getting me what I actually needed and getting me where I actually needed to go. Sometimes I just had to have a blank slate so somebody that knew better could come in and paint the picture I couldn't see. And even today, I have a lot of parts of my life mural that... well, I'm trying to see how the current strokes fit. And I'm having to hold back and wait, reminding myself that it will always work out. 

I just really believe this sentiment shared by Gordon B Hinckley...

It isn't as bad as you sometimes think it is. 

It all works out. Don't worry. 

I say that to myself every morning. 

It will all work out.

Confidence

I read an article on sex trafficking today that just about made me sick. It was about a woman who started dating somebody, fell in love with him, and he convinced her to sell her body and eventually took all her money and ruined her life. It sounds crazy, but it's real. She was raised in a stable, two-parent home and had a degree and a good job... but was made a victim.

And do you know why he targeted her? Her lack of confidence.

It scared me to death. I've been there, I'm raising a girl, I know too many girls who have been there too.

I lived that way for so so many years. I thought I wasn't pretty enough or thin enough, I thought nobody would love me the way I was, and that perfection was unattainable. The adversary fed that lie for all it was worth. He told me that my lack of confidence was only affecting me, he made me think as long as I wasn't "sinning" it was all reasonable and fine. He made me think it was justifiable to treat my body poorly and punish and think poorly of myself. I was miserable, and all the causes for my lack of confidence consumed my thoughts day in and day out. I was an extremely harsh critic of my own body, and unconsciously became a harsh critic of others as I constantly compared.

I think about that time in my life sometimes, and most often I feel overwhelming gratitude that I am a different person now: now that I have confidence. Real, genuine, confidence.

Now before I go any further, I feel like there's an important distinction to make. Confidence and arrogance are not the same thing. Arrogance is feeling like you are worth more than someone, and confidence is knowing that your worth something. Arrogance is thinking you could do something better than others, confidence is believing you can do hard things.

I believe in confidence. I believe in teaching it to our daughters and encouraging it in our friends and spouses. I believe knowing who you are and knowing you have a purpose and a role on earth is crucial. If you have real confidence, you can get through hard trials, and withstand hard temptations, and do really good things.

It really is an individual matter. I think confidence doesn't come from anyone else but you (and God). But i do think other people seeing good in us can help us along. Other people's faith in us can help us get to a place where we are ready to believe in ourselves. So just.... I guess the point I didn't know I was getting to is for us to.... be builders. It may not help, but what if we each tried to be builders of other people.  It certainly wouldn't hurt. If we could help inspire confidence in those around us what could we keep from happening in our world? Drugs? Sadness?

And a picture that to me represents this. This is me this summer, one week after having a miscarriage with a body that is a far cry from my fittest, but happy. Genuinely happy and not thinking a second thing about that body that has done so much for me and is such a gift. Not cropped, not covered. My sister asked me to be in a picture, and I got in the picture. (sidenote: I don't think being comfortable in our bodies is the only form of confidence, and I don't think pictures in bathing suits represent confidence. But for me, that's where I've struggled and come from so it represents a lot of personal triumph to even have a picture like this.) So I hope we all strive to find real confidence within ourselves. For me, it's a continual effort. Find purpose and meaning, and build other people. It will change your life, it will change theirs, and it can help change our world.

Get in the game

Today, whatever news station somebody previously had on when I hopped on the stairclimber was talking about fandom and it's benefits and mostly- it's downfalls. They were talking about the phenomena that hardcore fans essentially go through the same stress and adrenaline rush as the players they love so much, except for the fact that we have absolutely no control or part in the outcome. SO that stress just sits- there's nowhere productive for it to go. Today I want to write out loud about sitting on the sidelines of our own lives, and how we can possibly get in the game and start feeling fulfilled. It's not about the fame, it's about playing a game that you want to win.

First, I hope we are all fans of our own lives. I hope we dream of "winning" of the house cup or the world championship or whatever it is for you. And mind you, I don't think that has to be anything grand. I think my "winning" or "succeeding" largely has to do with growing old with Jay, having lots of babies, being financially stable and independent, and having a massive greenhouse on a piece of land somewhere pretty. Also owning my own business. Maybe a massive garden and lots of Boo's puppies running around. Some beautiful, frame-able photography for pleasure thrown in there. And I get to be on the field working toward that goal every day.

So yeah, I hope we're at least fans. I hope we are cheering for ourselves. But what I really hope is that we are down in the dirt doing it. I hope we are playing the game, and playing with all we've got. (mind you, I believe taking time to heal from injuries/catastrophes in our lives is ok too) There are a million things we can/need to do in a day. All of us. And for me it at times can be completely overwhelming and I would rather crawl in a hole and lie in a stressful sea of nothingness than do something. But I always feel better if I just play the game (or do the darn thing, ya know?), so why don't I just do it?

Do you have the same struggle? Why do we do this to ourselves (assuming it's not just me)? When I take a step back it seems like most of the time I know the antidote to whatever I'm feeling, but just don't want to make the initial hurdle. Even if you aren't perfect at whatever it is, or it's going to take you five years to really accomplish or whatever the case may be... it is so much more satisfying to be playing the game, even if you aren't completely sure of exactly what you're doing!

My dad always said, "point, shoot, aim (repeat)" which sounds a little silly at first, but it's really the principle that you've gotta shoot to see where you're at and you can re adjust from there.

So here's to being better at sewing and photography than I was last year because I kept doing them despite my imperfections. Here's to living our lives and making the phone calls we should and getting out of bed on time and exercising and taking twenty minutes to clean the dishes that have been staring at you from the sink. Here's to making the hard phone calls and e-mails and doing all the things we know will help us get closer to that victory, even when they're hard. Especially when they're hard.

Get a planner, find a new alarm clock that works, surround yourself with inspiration (whatever that looks like-podcasts and books are a good start), make time to do the things you love. For me, I'm a "point, aim, aim, aim, aim, aim, aim, and then maybe shoot" type person more often than not. I'm a solidly functional perfectionist, who used to scrub the dirt off her old navy flip flops with a toothbrush after school every day. (that, dear friends, is the truth) And so it's hard for me to move forward knowing things aren't perfect. Knowing they aren't exactly how I wanted them to be or pictured them to be. But I'm working on it. I'm making steps forward and sewing and ripping out a lot of seams and taking more pictures in manual. And you know.... it feels good.

Basically, this quote from instagram sums it up-
"You don't have to get it perfect. You just have to get it going" @haleyacres

And for my weekly photo I've got a shot I'm really proud of recently that makes me proud of keeping in the game and practicing photography even when I have been discouraged and it's a lot easier to leave my heavy camera at home. There's motion and light and real, genuine, human beings.

How to end the madness

I think I have a unique circumstance in some ways: I grew up in small town USA, where most people were white, but it wasn't suburbia where everyone was the same economic class. In fact, the people I knew with very little money were mostly white people. The people I knew that used drugs and did stupid stuff and had kids out right out of high school and had dysfunctional homes? The kids I knew in the foster care system? Mostly white. I'm not here to make a point of any of this. I'm here to share experience from a different perspective, which I think is important. It's a perspective that often feels apathetic and helpless.

I don't know how to do this delicately, and I'm not saying by any means that my experience is representative of the whole country, or my goodness- the whole state or county. But that does not make my experience any less real. And I think that's the problem. If someone has a different experience than what the loudest news station or protestor or blogger is saying, it's jumped on and discounted and we all end up with these extreme views because they're the only ones that are acceptable. BUT WHAT IF WE DIDN'T. What if we prioritized kindness over politics and did things that made a difference? Here! Now! And were bipartisan! I just think if we focused on people over politics life would be such a better place.  I'm suggesting... what if these issues with riots and bigotry and hatred were bipartisan, and what if there was a simple solution to begin fighting them? End rant momentarily.

I'm not saying kids who were different in my town weren't ever picked on. I think it happens everywhere in every high school in America, because.... high school. Different clothes, different likes, different levels of nerdiness, and sometimes different skin color.  When it happened it made me uncomfortable, and I knew it was wrong, and I didn't always speak up because I didn't know what to say and I wasn't confident enough in myself to put myself in a situation where that could possibly bring attention (probably negative attention) to myself. But I should have. It wasn't always someone with different skin color, in fact I think more often it was just kids who were different. Different in any way.

I want to offer a way that we can work to dispel hatred and bigotry, and I don't believe riots and verbal confrontation are the answers. And though peaceful protest has a place and purpose, I don't think they are the end-all answer either. I think to get started we have to do one thing; a simple thing that only requires a decided mind and brave heart. Decide today to teach our children to speak up when somebody is picked on, or when somebody says something mean. They don't have to end friendships over these sorts of comments, in fact, I think friends who consistently and kindly encourage us to be better and think differently are a good thing. Practice kindness and boldness and bravery. If something makes you feel funny in your gut, say calmly, "I don't think that's true" or "that hasn't been my experience". Do it yourself, and teach your children to do it. Nobody needs be embarrassed or called out or shamed. We don't have to have heated arguments over everything, because nobody is converted to kindness through shouting and argument. Those create immediate defensiveness and form a wall, which is exactly what we don't want. Be calm, but firm. Be kind.

I've always had this gut feeling that if we focus on our families and our communities and the things we can change, instead of obsessing over the people and the politics that we cannot (or at least maybe not right this second) the world would inherently be better. If people with mental illness had a supportive family or community to go to for help, if when hate was expressed it was overwhelmed by love, if our children felt safe and confident enough to stand up for right because we had set that example for them, if every person had a friend, family member, or neighbor to go to when times were tough wouldn't our world be different?

If we teach our children these things, and be them ourselves, we can change our circle. And if we each change our respective circles, we can change the world. We may not live in a community where racial tensions are prevalent, or where the hatred rampant in our country seem extremely present. In those situations it's easy to feel the hopelessness rise and ask yourself, "what on earth can I do from here?" I'm suggesting that if we do these things and practice, we will have the strength to say something if someone is treated unfairly at work, and our children will know how to respond to ignorant and hateful remarks whether in their circle now, or in their jobs twenty years from now.

Has a politician ever changed your mind more than your mother or your father, or your most influential professor or teacher? The influence we have in our homes and communities is/can be so deep and far-reaching, that if we discount it and it's effects we are leaving more on the table than we know.

We can vote. We can voice our concerns, we can be involved in politics however we can. But we also can work within the walls of our own homes and the boundaries of our own communities to make sure our children are brave enough and strong enough to help where ever they are and where ever they end up. Kindness spreads and changes people. And it is the antidote to hatred. Don't discount your instinct to go home and hug your babies after something horrific like Las Vegas happens. I think our gut is right on about these sort of things.

“If you want to bring happiness to the whole world, go home and love your family.” -Mother Teresa

Momming part I: takes and tips

This post isn't about MY mothering tips, but rather the things I've learned that have made the biggest difference in the way I mother and the dynamic that I have with Rory. I don't think every kid is the same, but the same way there are  marriage principles that apply universally, I think there are mothering "principles" if you will, that apply pretty well across the board.

Every kid wants to be heard. (you'll find with most of these, the principles also apply to adults. Don't we all want to be heard?). So listen when they speak. I find that if I really listen and respond to what Rory has to say, she doesn't get frustrated or louder or scream or practice any negative behaviors to get my attention. I look in her eyes, respond, and she moves on content. Obviously, there are times you can't listen right away to your child, or it's inappropriate to give them your full attention (i.e. when you're in a conversation with another adult) and a simple thing I read that I'm working on is to have your child hold your hand when they need your attention and you aren't available to talk right away. 

Be direct. Kids don't know or understand semantics, and they don't read between the lines. So if we ask, "honey, can you do this for me?" and they say 'no' we don't have a right to be upset. They were asked a question, and they gave an answer because asking a question implies that you have a choice. If there is no choice in the matter, don't ask a question. Say, "I need you to go get your shoes on right now, please" if that's what you want. I learned this principle from a University preschool director and author, and when I went home I realized how much I asked questions when the thing I wanted was a request! (By the way, this rule applies with adults too. Being straightforward and kind makes a world of difference) She compared this to the way God speaks when he says, "This is my beloved Son. Hear Him." Completely direct, right?! 

Consistency is KEY. One more time people: consistency is KEY. This is the parenting advice that I think helps both Rory and I the most. I take no credit whatsoever- I didn't come up with this. But I've watched some really good parents nail this concept and it works. I find that as I practice setting boundaries and being consistent it pays off in terms of Rory's behavior and our relationship together. What I mean by this, is when you say you will do something- do it. When you say you will not- don't. When you say they have to go to time out if they do that one more time or they can't have ice cream if they don't eat some salad- follow through! It's hard. It's really hard. Because it's really inconvenient most of the time. If I say to Rory that she has to pick up what she just threw on the ground and she decides she doesn't want to, it may take a half hour and 3 time outs to make it happen (this really happened last week when I had a friend visiting) when it would have taken me all of 30 seconds. It's also hard because you have to REALLY think about your words before you say them and mean it. You can't throw consequences around like confetti then change your mind when you realize you don't want to follow through. The more consistent you are, the more your child trusts you (for good and for bad! ha). And for us, the more we practice this concept, the less boundaries she feels like she has to test. Because that's what they call it right? Testing boundaries? And if there are no boundaries, or if they are different every time, they will continue to try to find them.

Honestly, I think empathy can go a long way with parenting, and it's really easy to have unrealistic expectations with kids. They are young, and learning, and feeling all kinds of new emotions and frustrations that they don't know how to handle every day. I lean toward wanting Rory to act like a tiny, well-behaved adult all the time but when I keep in perspective how it might feel to be her, it helps me to have more patience and empathy as her mom.  

I call the combination of these things fighting the good fight. Because it's hard. But it's so worth it. I have a really good kid, but she's hard-headed and intelligent and throws tantrums on a regular basis like any other toddler. It's so rewarding to watch her grow and to see parenting practices like these pay off in kindness and genuine helpful behaviors as she learns. 

The one college lecture I remember

There was a specific lecture in college in which I both decided on my major,
and also learned a principle I've never forgotten and one that has changed my life for the better.

Let me start by emphasizing that I believe we are all born to create. We are creative beings.
But I think too often we get caught up in the term "creative" as right brained or left brained or artsy or crafty or deep or borderline genius when really, I think it's much more simple than that.
We create every single day. We create in our relationships: we create trust, we create understanding, we create experiences. We create in our jobs, we create in our homes, we create in our social media presence.

Now back to the point. There I was in my intro to marketing class, and the professor asked us to think up a really cool, creative clock: one that's unlike anything we had ever seen before. So I sat, and my mind raced, and I came up with exactly.... nothing. Then he suggested we turn to our partner and create a new, creative clock that was an owl. So many cool ideas started to sprout- it could have wings that spread when it chimed or feathers that shimmered and glowed at the strike of the hour, or any number of cool things.

Then he revealed this simple principle that has changed my life: "Creativity loves constraint". It seems simple enough, but the more I thought about it the more true it became. You see, this principle changed my life because it changed the way I see constraints.

Every time I have a new constraint show up in my life, I try to figure out how that's going to stretch my creativity. How I'm going to make things work within that constraint. Jay and I have only had one car for over two years now, so I started going to the gym at 5am last year to make my schedule work. My schedule got more creative (and hard, but I really really loved that time) to work within the constraint. When Jay and I moved to Utah, we had a budget to buy a house with. Because of that budget, we bought a foreclosure to get a house we really truly loved. We would never have bought the house we did if we could have afforded a nice, new house just like it. I had to be creative to decorate our house on a  budget. I had to walk into DI and look at everything with a creative eye. I have had to learn new skills and new talents and make curtains and shop clearance sales and make old pieces work instead of buying new pieces. If a person wants to stop using foul language (constraint), they have to be creative and find new ways to say things! The list of examples could go on forever.

The moral of the story is we all have constraints. We have time constraints and budget constraints and constraints within our relationships. And it's really easy to look at those as negatives, but this principle taught me that it doesn't have to be that way.

And for good measure, here's Rory and I in our matching unicorn outfits that I made from things I already had on hand plus less than ten dollars in supplies because... can you guess? Constraints. 

So I want to hear what other constraints have forced you to be creative and learn new skills or create something in a different way than you otherwise would have!

It's ok to like your kid

I love my kid, it's not a secret. She's awesome and fun and funny and smart and dang cute. She's also two... so sometimes she's a tantrum-thrower and screamer and very bossy little thing. 

I, however, like to focus on the former rather than the latter. 

Not because I think my kid is perfect... but because if you're going to focus on one, it may as well be that one. I feel like I have to make the caveat that what I'm referring to here is not ignoring your child's issues or forgoing discipline because you have on rose-colored lenses. I'm just saying that just like grown-ups, all kids have good and bad and I think we have the choice of which we focus on. 

I can't begin to count the number of times I've given a parent a compliment about their child, and they either shrug it off or tell me something that child has been doing wrong lately to downplay my compliment (i.e. "yeah, well if you saw them at home you wouldn't be saying that") and while I understand the urge to do so,  I wish we wouldn't. There are times I have to make a conscious effort to accept compliments rather than downplay them because it can feel uncomfortable, or maybe I'm not sure what to say, or I want them to realize that my life isn't all roses with this imperfect child! haha. But this is my pleading for us all to accept compliments directed toward our children. And I beg you, please accept compliments toward them if they are standing next to you. If you have nothing else to say, a simple "thanks" will do, if not a "thanks, I agree!".  I think half of us are so used to rejecting compliments about ourselves that we have no idea how to accept them for our children, but it's never done any good for anyone to reject a compliment, has it?

I had this leader in college that taught me about the pygmalion effect. 

It basically is a theory of self-fulfilling prophecy whereby people perform to your expectations of them. They internalize your view of them and become more of whatever that is.

It really makes sense if you think about it. We are human beings, and we internalize what we hear said about us-children even more so. If we hear kind, uplifting things said to us often, how will that affect us? And vis versa? I can tell you that I've seen both play out a million times over and the pygmalion effect has proved true in observation. 

I'm not saying it is some sort of cookie cutter pattern that affects everyone and every child the same. I  just feel this duty as a parent to be a source of kindness and good in my child's life while she lives in a world that doesn't exactly sprinkle those things like pixie dust. I want to be her disciplinarian and her parent, but I also want to be her champion and anybody who wants to champion her with me will be welcomed with open arms. So let's strive to be our kids champions, and next time somebody tells you how perfect they are say with enthusiasm, "thanks so much, I really like him/her too!"

3 things

I don't know everything,  and I certainly don't know everything about marriage. But here's the deal: Jay and I are imperfect people, but we love each other and we've worked really hard to create a marriage that is happy and comfortable and full of love. We've worked for it, and I think any two people who want to work for it can have a happy marriage too. (I fully understand that relationships are complicated and it takes two to tango, but all of these things have really worked in our specific situation and others that I know. Plus, science and research.)

So here are 3 things we try to do that work.

Think nice:
Your relationship cannot be happy if you're thinking mean or harsh things about your spouse all the time. Happiness and harsh words or critical thoughts cannot coexist. They represent darkness and light, contention and peace, like and dislike and they cannot exist in the same space. Not that we have complete control over what wanders into our head, but I believe we have a choice about what we do with those thoughts once they end up there. So stop it. Stop is as soon and as often as you can. Make a conscious effort to think only good things about your spouse for a full day- a full week- forever. They will feel the difference and so will you. And remember your brain is like a muscle, and the more you work that muscle and choose what you do with those thoughts, the stronger it will get. You can literally rewire your brain. It may take time, especially if you haven't exactly worked on your thoughts very often the last year (or five or ten years).

Don't keep score:
Things aren't even- no two jobs are the same, no two people are the same. Some people enjoy laundry, some people hate dishes, so no two jobs are equal in the grand scheme. Not to mention no to peoples' mental capacities are the same at the same point in time. Some seasons are more emotionally exhausting than others, and it's ok for things to be a little imbalanced on paper during those times. Some days are more exhausting, and we each may have less capacity for things left at the end of those. Preferences and abilities are different: some people care more about it being clean, some people don't. Some people like doing research and planning, and some would rather just go for it. So the best way I've found to even the drawing board is to forget it. Totally and completely forget it. If I want to do something (aka I want the dishes done right this moment or have a clean house or whatever) that's my prerogative- not something Jay is indebted to me for. And vice versa. If he prefers to do really detailed planning on trips and projects or have a perfectly manicured lawn, that can be his thing. Important sidetone: if you need help, ask, but it is never fair to keep silent score against your spouse. It creates immediate opposition. You only keep score if you're on different teams. Stop. It.

Be happy and express love:
If we are to act not be acted upon, I think the best choice we can make is to be happy regardless of the circumstance. I'm always struck at how quickly attitude contagion happens. If Jay is happy, it's hard for me to be upset or angry and vice versa. We (hopefully) love our spouses, and we may even tell them. What if we followed the Savior's advice and took it a step further to show them love and kindness every day. It's a lot easier to think, "they know I love them" than it is to make sure that they know and have not forgotten. Try using their love languages. I'm not exaggerating when I say speaking each others love languages has made all the difference in our marriage. You may be showing them love in ways they don't recognize, which makes you feel bad or irritated, and them feel unloved. Make an effort to show kindness and to be happy regardless of circumstance. When you have capacity to- be the sunshine.

I say these things not because I'm perfect at them, but that I'm imperfect.
I can be intense and emotional and a million other things all in one day,
and these are things that help me to have a happier marriage.
I am happier when I do these things, and I'm trying to be happy.
I believe life is made for us to be happy, so if you aren't feeling happy... trying is always worth a shot.

My baby and my hair

There's this conversation from college that I sometimes think of and chuckle. My hair was always a little crazy and pretty much always different. I never have been a girl who wears my hair the exact same way every day. Half-up, straight, curly, messy, bun, braids, etc. I admit that I am a much more boring hair person in my new role of motherhood, but the concept still resonates.

The conversation went something like...
Roommate: "how do you do that with your hair?"
Me: "I just figure out how it wants to be... then I help it along."

My roommate then proceeded to laugh at me for a good while, which is I think why I remember it so well. I had just spoken of my hair like it was a separate living creature, so I guess I understand. And I never thought of that as an actual applicable principle then- but it applies to motherhood pretty dead on.

First, a story:
Rory was sick for a week. (she wasn't dying, just bad enough to be clingy and not sleep well enough to get better) And I'm just not very good at slowing down. You know, exercise, shower, get the baby up, make sure all the dishes are done before Rory has finished her breakfast, get her dressed, finish a project, vacuum the floors, plan dinner, make lunch, do more dishes, four loads of laundry, pick up all the toys, wipe counters, pay bills. Oh, you didn't want to hear about the endless chores in my life? Me either. But by the end of Rory's sick week I couldn't handle the rat race with a whiny toddler. So late in the afternoon when both of our nerves were about gone (insert "HOLD YOU" in the whiniest voice possible 20 times the next time you try to make dinner)  I grabbed her softest blank and we cuddled into my bed and watched a movie of her choice. And as we laid in bed and she held my hand that conversation about my hair popped into my head.

What if I were a little more like that with my kid? What if instead of trying to force her to be the exact same every day (i.e. my hair has a little curl today? Cue the straightener) I tried to first figure out what she's prone to be that day, and worked with that instead of against it? What if I slowed down and watched a movie with her when she was clingy and took her to the park when she had too much energy? What if I sat down and gave her five solid minutes of my undivided attention when she needed it instead of ignoring her and pushing forward at half-capacity because she needed me and I didn't want to slow down?

Even with one baby I have an embarrassing amount of days on record where I have tried to force everything to happen instead of listening to what she needs. And to be completely honest, most of the time what she needs ends up being what I need too. (Funny how that works) I'm not saying you should give your child everything they want right when they want it, but I'm learning there is something to giving your child what they need. So here's to publicly admitting fault and committing to be better. To do more listening, and less ignoring needs until I can't deal anymore. I think this probably means more hand holding in my near future. I've always been a believer that if you put the important things first, everything else will fit. And being a mom- like, really being a Jesus following, intentional, kind mom is just one of those really important things that needs to come first.