The Day I Stated the Facts

Today I realized that if I just say it as it is, there is less conflict. 
For instance:  No.1 decided to spit his toothpaste all over the sink.  I told him, "You just earned the right to clean my bathroom." He looked at me with complete understanding and without argument.
For another instance:  No.2, who has a tendancy to be too self-reliant, climbed on the counter to get a cereal bowl out of the cabinet, got ahold of one of my Pfaltzgraff ceramic bowls, and broke it.  "You may not get on the counter." No.2 was sad, but didn't protest.
I found that not only does stating things factually help my children to not throw fits, it helps me, too.  I discovered that if I take a breath, say my fact, and not dwell on it, I keep my cool.
So, here's to win-win.
Here's to the facts.
And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Taught Myself

FHE Treat

It is Monday.  Monday in our home means Family Home Evening.  That is a night once a week where we put aside all distractions and focus on a spiritual lesson we can all learn from.  Of course, with two younger children, most of the lessons are "dumbed-down", but their messages are clear.

Tonight, however, I shared a lesson about a turkey who loses his temper and turns colors: red with anger, purple with passion, green with envy, and so on until he turns white when he learns to control his temper and decides it is he who is in charge of his emotions.  I had colored feathers cut out and the boys glued corresponding colors on a turkey cut-out I made as the story was told.  The boys, well, lets be real, No.1 seemed to enjoy the lesson, but I think I was the one who learned the most.

I am in control of myself.  I might often say, "You're beginning to irritate me" or "You are on my last nerve" or "You are going to make me lose my temper," but it's ME and only ME who can decide whether to lose it or not.  After that lesson, I pray that I can be a good example of showing responsibility for my own temper and keep it in check.

So, here's to taking my own medicine.

Here's to being humbled.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Felt Myself Slipping

I probably stayed up way too late last night, but I am old enough to control my temper, but I felt it slipping away from me today.

I hate getting frustrated before going to church.  It really makes it hard to feel the Spirit.  So, as I felt my blood begin to boil because No.1 and No.2 were not cooperating, I took a breath and calmed down.  That was good.

Later, though, after church it seemed as though my boiling point dropped and the slightest thing turned me into a yelling, impatient mother.  I didn't scream or throw a fit at any time, but I still felt a bit out of control.  I felt myself slipping back.

I'm planning on an earlier bedtime tonight.

So, here's to starting fresh, again.

Here's to stepping forward.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Will Remember

I have to give a talk tomorrow in church on "Deepening your Conversion".  I am referencing a conference talk given by Oscarson (Gen. YW Pres) and a couple other talks and quotes, but I wanted to share my mom's conversion story, so I called her to make sure I had it straight.

Three years after her father passed away, my mom and her mom and little brother moved from Montana to Seattle.  An LDS family helped them move and they introduced my mom to some girls who were also LDS.  My mom came from a good Catholic home, but when invited to mutual by these girls, my mom said yes.  She was 15-years old.

My mom continued to attend mutual.  She went to girls camp.  She participated in what is now Personal Progress and qualified for all the awards.  She went on temple to trips from Seattle to Oakland, CA even though she was not able to go inside.  She even saved her money all summer and paid for a year of 5am early-morning seminary (you use to have to pay for seminary).  She said that that year in seminary was her most successful school year; she had the best grades ever.  My grandma would not allow her to attend another year of waking-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-church-school-before-school classes, so my mom gave the money she saved to another student who could not afford it.  Still, my grandma would not allow her to be baptized.

My mom turned 18 on December 22, 1969.  7 days later she was baptized.  Her mother would not attend the baptism.

I asked if there was a turning point, a time when she really had confirmation that this gospel was true.  She said one night she was reading the Book of Mormon, she hadn't even gotten to Moroni's promise, about when Alma was crying, "Oh, that I were an angel." She stopped and thought, "Is this real? Did this really happen?  Or is this just a good story?"  She prayed to Heavenly Father and asked him those questions.  She said that she was immediately filled with the Holy Ghost and felt a peace and love that she had never before felt.  It was then that she knew this gospel was more than mutual and girls camp, this gospel was true.

Although she didn't know it, I was in tears as she shared her conversion story with me.  I love to hear my mom bare her testimony.  It strengthens mine.  I think that if she could do what she did without any familial support, I can do great things too.

We said our goodbyes and I finished writing my talk.  It is now as I reflect on our conversation that I want to be able to tell my children my conversion story.  Sure, I was born into the church, but I want to tell them the moment I knew it was all true.  I do have a story.  It's not as great as my mom's, but I do have one nonetheless.  I want to share my testimony with my children.  I want my testimony to strengthen theirs.  And I want their conversion stories to be shared with their children one day.

So, here's to testimony.

Here's to sharing it.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Played Catch-Up

After dropping No.1 off at school (he was finally over the stomach flu that started Saturday night), I came home, made No.2 breakfast, cleaned up breakfast, set him up to play, and headed to the office to go through pictures and organize thoughts about them for the last month.  I scrapbook and blog and I do it because a) I like it and 1) I want my children to have something from their lives and our own personal family history to share with their families one day.

It took me nearly 3 hours.  But it's done.  And I feel a bit of relief.  (I don't like getting behind, I stress about it, then it takes even longer to get caught up.)

So, here's to keeping memories.

Here's to reflections.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Kept Going

This morning I awoke with an unwanted companion: a headache.  I hate waking up with a headache, it really ruins your whole day.

I schluffed around for about 2 hours, meeting only the basic needs of my children (ie. I gave them food, who cares if they're dressed or not) until I decided that this was ridiculous. I didn't want to take medicine because I felt nauseous already (at first I thought No.1 had shared his virus, but now I think it's my new fish oils from Target), so I decided to do something to take my mind off of the pain in my brain.

I got the boys dressed and we went outside.  No.1 had been spending entirely too much time on Minecraft since being home sick (he goes back to school tomorrow) and No.2 was antsy (what's new) and I needed some fresh air.  As I mowed the lawn, I watched the boys play together.  They are such good boys and get along well for the most part.

I'm glad that I didn't just mope in bed all day.  I know people who do/would.  I'm glad I have the willpower to get up and go even when I feel like crud.  I am so grateful for good boys who seem to sense when I'm not feeling so hot and automatically turn on their best behavior.

So, here's to mind over matter.

Here's to intuitive children.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.

The Day I Thought I Was Done

There are two chores I hate above all others:  putting dishes away and putting laundry away.  I actually enjoy washing dishes (our dishwasher has been broken for over a year) and even folding clothes.  I just hate putting them away.  One day I timed it and it only took 3 minutes to put my laundry away, so I don't know why I hate it so much.  I just do.

With that said, you can imagine my joy as I washed and put away my last dish today and caught up on all my laundry.  Ahhh.  I can finally rest.

Oh, wait.  We still had meals to eat and clothes we were wearing.  My dishes and laundry will never be done.  For the rest of my life, I will always have dishes to wash and clothes to launder.  My work will never be done.

It's not just dishes and laundry that will never be done.  I will forever be a mother.  That is a job that will never end.  And, unlike putting away bowls and pants, I'm thrilled about that.  I sometimes try to imagine my boys all grown up.  I can't.  I really can't.  I don't know why.  I can see myself in 10 years (probably because I've looked the same since I was 2), but I have no idea what my boys will look like.  I try to imagine their personalities and mannerisms.  But I can't.  They change so much there's no telling what they will be like.  I can hope they will be happy, polite, courteous, patient, academic, athletic, self-motivated, confident, and all the other things parents hope for their children, but I can't say for sure how they will be.  I just hope that they turn out they way they were meant to.  Each boy has his own individual eternal purpose here on earth and I pray that as I do my work, I can help them reach their potential.

I see my mother-in-law still parenting her son (not in a weird over-protective-smothering-must-see-Dr.-Phil kind of way, but in a completely-appropriate-caring-advice-giving-when-asked sort of way).  She is a good example to me of how a mother's work is never done.  I can see (and have recently) her get frustrated with some of the decisions her children make, just like I do with my little men.  I see her teach her children by example even now, just like I do with my guys.  I see her offer council when needed, just as I do now.

Even though I cannot imagine my boys all grown-up, I am looking forward to those days, but please don't get here too soon.

So, here's to motherhood.

Here's to working from son up to son down.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.