How Costco restores my faith in humanity

With so much tragedy in this world, it can start to seem like a pretty scary place. "Worst mass shooting in US history" isn't the type of headline I ever want to read and it breaks my heart thinking of how many people were personally impacted by one evil man and how so many are impacted every day by the evil acts of others, many of whom wield guns. I desperately wish I could do something more than simply pray for the friends and families of the victims and keep reposting Moms Demand Action posts on my Facebook feed.

It's always amazing though, how simple, small, everyday interactions with people can remind you just how genuinely lovely the far majority of the human race is. Today I'm sharing a little collection of those every day moments that are evidence to me of that beautiful fact. And I'm doing it by explaining how Costco restores my faith in humanity.

This is not a sponsored post, haha.

1. People at Costco LOVE kids. Go to Costco with a baby and you'll feel like a celebrity, go to Costco with five small children and you'll feel like royalty, no joke. Exhausted, stressed-out royalty, but beloved royalty nonetheless.  

"Super mom!"
"You're my mom idol!"
"Those are the most beautiful kids ever!"
"You're my hero!"
"Way to go!"  

I feel like my fan club headquarters are at a warehouse grocer. 

I once went to Costco with my sister when she was visiting from out of town. Her exhausted three year old had a major meltdown part way through. As she fought to keep her cool and calmly tried to get her crying and screaming daughter toward the front of the store to take her to the car, an older gentleman shouted at the top of the lungs from way down the aisle, "You're doing great Mom!" and gave her a huge thumbs up. I honestly can't say I've had nearly that much positive feedback and encouragement in public anywhere else (other than my mom salute experience of course!). In fact, I often get a look of disdain when dealing with a toddler meltdown. It means so much when someone chooses empathy over judgement.

2. Trader Joe's is great, and many of you are going to hate me for what I'm about to say, but I call it the anti-Costco. Tiny carts, tiny portions, and tiny aisles. With two side-by-side child seats in the cart, plus plenty of room to maneuver a wide load with a kid riding on and hanging off each side, Costco knows how to make things easy on Mama. Plus the carts are basically un-tippable. We've had several cart tipping incidents, two of which occured at Trader Joe's of course. Yeah, I have a lot of good parenting stories. 

Costco obviously caters to large families since they sell mayo jars bigger than my head, but the fact that there's somewhere a big family can go and be accommodated comfortably is such a relief to me. Most of the world doesn't seem set up for parents with several kids in tow, so my favorite warehouse store is a happy reprieve.

By the way, when my kids are grown and gone I plan to shop exclusively at Trader Joe's, so don't worry, I do realize how awesome it is, it just doesn't work for us right now... at all. 

3. The other day I was at Costco with just the little girls, my two year old and 8 month old, which is actually quite a treat since I usually go with all five kids. As I was getting my receipt checked on the way out the door, I saw someone's ridiculously huge toilet paper block teetering on top of the pile in their cart and realized I forgot to buy paper towels, something we desperately needed and that I had specifically gone to Costco to buy. When the receipt checker (do they have an official name? I'm sure they do) saw the look on my face, she asked "Did you forget something?" I explained to her that I did and she offered to hold my cart next to her while I ran to get the paper towels (looking back, I should have asked if someone could just go get them for me).  

I trekked to the back of the store with my two babies, without a cart this time, got the paper towels, and attempted to carry/drag them while coaxing my two year old, who was by now completely done with shopping, to keep walking toward the front of the store to check out for the second time. A sweet woman saw me struggling and ordered me to put my paper towels on her cart because she "was headed up to the front anyway." 

Once I got there, I found the shortest line and was waiting for my turn when the man in front of me, who only had a few things himself, asked if that was my only item and offered to let me go in front of him. When I moved up, the man in front of him also offered to let me move ahead of him, making me the next person to be checked out rather than having to wait in line at all with my on the verge of losing it toddler.  

Three thoughtful souls within a matter of two or three minutes performed simple acts of kindness that honestly made my day. Those are your typical Costco shoppers people. Maybe it's just our location, but I firmly believe that place rocks.

It may verge on cliche (how do I type the accent in blogger?), but as I think about how we can impact the world for the better in the face of unfathomable tragedy, I think not only of prayers for comfort and political activism, I think of living a truly good, selfless life every day. I believe showing everyone you meet the type of thoughtfulness and kindness we all wish mankind displayed toward one another on a broader level makes a difference. The only way to fill the world with goodness is by being truly good yourself. And being truly good doesn't take much. Encourage a stranger, offer a helping hand, compliment someone every day, even about something small. Tell the person in front of you at the DMV that they're wearing a really great outfit if you notice they are. Give a mother a #momsalute for heaven's sake! Make yourself everyone's #1 fan, especially those who may at first seem very different than you.

I want to treat people everywhere like my unofficial fan club at Costco treats me.

5 Easy steps to become the worst mom you can be

Follow these fail-proof steps and you're guaranteed to be a worse mom than you ever thought possible!

1. Get as little sleep as you can.

People may tell you to nap when your kids are napping, but that advice is for lazy moms who have messy houses and don't consistently cook three meals a day from scratch. Napping is a waste of time. In addition to avoiding naps at all costs, be sure to stay up into the wee hours of the night binging on pointless shows you'll probably regret watching in the morning. Suffering from exhaustion, you'll be infinitely less patient with and more easily annoyed by your kids the next day. What kid doesn't need a little more scary mommy in his life?

2. Browse the social media accounts of "lifestyle" bloggers you don't know in real life.

Do this every chance you get: First thing in the morning before you get out of bed, while the kids are eating lunch, even bathroom breaks are a great opportunity. In fact, it's a great replacement activity on those late nights you're sick of watching reality shows or Netflix series. You've just found a new hobby! Ignore the fact that the life these women portray on the internet is only a tiny fraction of their real, messy reality, and be sure to compare the worst parts of yourself with their strengths. You'll probably forget about your many blessings and be filled with an empty longing for more and a deep feeling of inadequacy. After you stare at picture after picture of other people's kids wearing handmade knit overalls and bonnets sitting on vintage quilts blowing dandelions in the middle of a field or happily playing with a single block on a hard wood floor in an empty white room, your own kids will look like little monsters. Winning!

3. Never do anything for yourself.

Your needs don't matter! Being a good mom requires that you spend 24/7 365 days a year thinking about and doing for your kids. Mommy friends? Who needs 'em! Both breaks and moral support are for the weak. As resentment grows and you feel emotionally depleted and physically exhausted, remind yourself that you're definitely a better mother than the woman who takes time out for date nights, girls nights out, and perhaps even a hobby.

4. Resent your partner.

Some people may see their husband as a teammate or partner, but the man who co-created your children probably does much less for them than you do, doesn't he? Can't he do anything the way you would (aka the right way)? Every time he leaves for work remember how much easier his days are than yours and resent every tantrum you suffer through that he misses. When they're at their worst, look at your kids as a burden he's dumped on you and is never enough help with.

5. Over schedule as many days as possible.

The goal is to always be in a rush. Playdates, activities, errands; squeeze in as many car trips as you can in a day. You're not a good mom unless your kids are in soccer, swimming, gymnastics, piano lessons, and girl or boy scouts, all at the same time. The constant battles with the kids to get in and out of the car and the overstimulation of so many different people and places will without a doubt result in multiple meltdowns by the kids, and consequently, you too. And don't forget that 20 minute naps on the go in the car rather than a good solid sleep in his bed will leave your toddler cranky and irritable. Success!

Being a "happy" mom

A friend of mine shared Phililppians 4:11 as her scripture verse of the week a few months ago and it's been a fairly constant thought/mantra in my mind since. I have to admit that there are moments, hours, days, and from time to time, even weeks when I don't feel "happy" in the traditional sense. I like to believe I'm a generally happy person, but what really resonates with me is the concept of contentment. Neither I, nor Paul in the quote above, is talking about contentment as a lackadaisical satisfaction with the status quo. The contentment I want to talk about is as a form of happiness that exists regardless of circumstances.

I've had and continue to enjoy more than my fair share of stereotypically happy times and I would be remiss to not mention that my life has been one of incredible ease compared to most. But there are inevitably some difficult times when you're raising little humans. Sometimes I'm frustrated because my kids have literally ignored ever single thing I've asked them to do all day. Sometimes I'm discouraged because they've been fighting something awful for several days in a row and our home feels like a sea of contention instead of the harbor of refuge I want it to be. There have also been times during mommyhood that I've felt friendless, and embarrassingly enough, even left out. As an adolescent I always assumed that feeling wouldn't be part of the emotional vocabulary of adulthood, but apparently it is. 

No matter what my current emotional state, I always know deep within that I am an incredibly blessed woman. Unfortunately that doesn't mean those negative emotions don't exist, and it definitely doesn't mean they aren't real and 100% valid. In fact, my personal opinion is that sadness is an essential and irreplaceable part of the human experience (and I didn't just learn that from the movie Inside Out, haha). Learning not to wallow in sadness and let it dominate our day to day existence is the trick, or maybe even the lesson we have to learn. And that's where contentment comes in: happiness that exists regardless of circumstances. An overriding sense of well-being simply because we know that we are enough. 

But how do we keep our eyes on contentment in "whatsoever state" we're in when that state is a pretty darn frustrating or discouraging one? I've found that it's amazing how much attitude, sheer grit, and conscious choice can affect our mood and outlook on life. I'm not talking about people who are clinically depressed here of course, and I'm also not necessarily writing this to women suffering through intense trials like severe illness, death, or divorce. I'm speaking for myself and others like me who feel down or discouraged from time to time, especially in the realm of motherhood. Like many of you, the first place I turn to restore my sense of contentment is gratitude. Writing out a list of what I'm grateful for has never proved especially helpful to me, but I have found something that pretty much unfailingly turns my heart toward thanks. It probably seems silly, but my little trick to boost my gratitude meter is to look back at my Instagram account. When I see my kids' happy faces, special date nights with my husband, and fun family outings, even my children's past mischievous antics bring a smile to my face in hindsight. 

I think there's a reason we usually share mostly the happy parts of our lives on social media. I know there are plenty of people who get annoyed that Facebook and Instagram (and Snapchat? Not sure about that one--I've been avoiding a new addiction) are often used to portray a "false" reality, stripped of the flaws and hardships of our "real" lives. I think the reason many of us do it, though, isn't necessarily to impress others. Instead, it's a way of reminding, or even convincing ourselves that that's what our life is really like. Isn't that what we want it to be? The beautiful, joyful parts stripped of the stress and sadness. I think our own memories often act in a similar way. Just talk to my mother about how easy my sisters and I were as infants. I don't believe for a second that we all unfailingly slept through the night from six weeks on or that each of us was potty trained in one day at 18 months old using the complicated method of "just putting underwear" on us. My mom is far from the only mother I know who remembers the happy parts of raising children much more vividly than the difficult times, and I actually look forward to some of the hard parts fading into the fog of my memory too. Recording pictures and happy thoughts on social media has proven an invaluable tool for me to remind myself of all I've been blessed with. Perusing my chatbooks is always an instant pick-me-up. Choosing to focus my thoughts on thankfulness and happy memories clouds out and puts into perspective my current frustration.

I feel the need to mention that motherhood isn't all discouragement and negativity for me. Most of the time, raising my five little beauties brings me so much joy. I love making up silly songs and having dance parties with my kids, baking banana bread with Calvin, doing puzzles with (read: for) Tess, reading The Illustrated Classics to Lila, drawing basketball players with Miles, and snuggling Mae against my chest in the carrier. There are moments when I feel like my heart could burst because of how much I love them and how fulfilled I feel by this wonderful life I lead. Like when I sit with the baby snuggled on my lap in the driveway as we watch the other kids smile and sprint through the spring green grass while the sprinklers cool their little bodies off on a warm day. I hold on to those perfect moments fiercely, placing them safely in my back pocket as ammunition against the lie that sometimes pops into my head in the midst of a hard day; the lie that my life isn't good enough for one reason or another, or that I'm not good enough for one reason or another. Luckily I have a whole stockpile of contentment ammo to shoot those lies right out of the sky; I just have to remember to use it.

In addition to contentment being a choice, I would argue that learning to be "happy" in spite of circumstance is also an acquired skill. Notice how in the scripture above, Paul says he's "learned" to be content. It's definitely something I'm learning more every day. I believe that as mothers, it's vitally important for us to model for and teach our children that it's possible to be content no matter what. A bad day does not equal a bad life. Feeling lonely almost never means you're all alone. I've decided that one thing I want my kids to be able to unequivocally say is that they have a mother who is content. I guess I'll have to teach them what that word means first, so maybe for now I'll settle with them knowing that mom is "happy." I may not always be gleeful, but I want to show them that contentment is something they can practice and learn for themselves, starting with gratitude and moving on from there. If I'm able to raise kids who know how to be content in "whatsoever circumstance" they are in, I'll count that as a huge success. And I'm pretty sure that seeing their contentment will shoot my own gratitude meter through the roof.

10 Parenting lessons I learned from my husband

Yesterday was our 9th wedding anniversary, so in honor of the love of my life, who is one of my biggest parenting idols, I thought I'd share a few of the many things I've learned from my husband about being a parent.

1. The kids will not freeze to death if we go on a walk at night in below 70 degree temperatures without jackets. (Yes, we live in San Diego)

My hubby knows that the concept of "suitable" clothing for certain activities is completely contrived and man-made. Any clothing that adequately covers the body can be worn for any outing, whatever the occasion, formal or casual, day or night, regardless of the temperature. The kids are so much happier and the stress level in the house goes way down when dad is in charge of the kids clothes.

2. Holding a baby is never an excuse to sit around. 

I've done more than my fair share of cooking, cleaning, and yes, even going to the bathroom while holding a baby, but my hubby takes it to a whole new level. That man has held an infant while playing basketball with an older child, building a campfire, mowing the lawn, and who knows what else (don't try this at home kids). You name it, he has probably done it with a baby in his arms and a toddler hanging onto his leg on more than one occasion. Without complaint.

3. It's usually more important to resolve a conflict than it is to be right. 

Oh man, he is so much better at this than I am. Whether it's with the kids or with me, he is so good at diffusing tense situations and admitting his part in the conflict. This is one he's still teaching me. He can playfully distract the kids out of a tantrum much faster than I can get them to retreat from the invisible line I've drawn in the sand (usually while giving them a death stare).

4. Outings are only as stressful as you make them. 

Packing up to go to the park, beach, or on a hike with five small kids can easily feel like preparing for Armageddon. I've made the interesting observation, however, that the more kids one has, the less stuff one actually totes around. My diaper bag has gotten progressively emptier with the birth of each child as I whittle my "necessities" down to the bare minimum. Yet again though, my husband is not to be outdone. All that is required for any outing with Daddy is a single diaper and maybe a small travel-size pack of wipes if he's feeling ambitious. I'm still waiting for him to teach me how he wards off the cries for snacks, toys, and band-aids I constantly endure. He is a marvel.

5. Edit your complaints. 

For the longest time I thought my children had Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personalities and were whiny, difficult, and obstinate only for me, reserving their inner angelic selves for the times Mommy was away and Daddy was in charge. I came to this logical conclusion because every time I'd return from a solo shopping Target trip, a girl's night out, or my monthly book club, my husband would say the kids were fine and proceed to ask me about my evening. What??? No 20 minute stories about the fights you had to break up, the messes that took an hour to clean, or the bedtime tantrums? I assumed because he didn't mention them, they didn't happen. It turns out, the kids are just as difficult (and fun, hilarious, and adorable) for both of us, it's just that he doesn't share my compulsion to verbalize the nitty gritty of every little difficult part of watching them.

I'm sad to admit that at the end of a particularly difficult parenting day, I can't wait for my husband to get home to not only relieve me from my childrearing duties, but also so I can tell him just how hard a day it was. My husband explained to me that he doesn't want me to worry about him or the kids while I'm out, he wants me to enjoy myself, so he doesn't share the hard parts of taking care of the children. Why didn't I think of that? That's not to say it's wrong to share the difficult parts of parenting with your spouse. I think that's pretty much essential, especially for a stay at home parent who deals with the kids for the majority of the day, but an edited version of the most important events would probably be more helpful than a detailed description of every single complaint.

A friend recently posted a little saying on Facebook that really struck me. It said, "Was it a bad day? Or was it a bad 5 minutes that you milked all day?" Ouch.

6. Say yes more than you say no. 

I've read this same advice in multiple parenting books and advice columns. It comes naturally to my husband. He really reserves his no's for the times they're important. I wonder why he's the favorite parent? I saw a huge list on Pinterest the other day about how to avoid using the word "no" with your kids--at all. I have to say that's a concept I definitely say NO to. Kids need to understand that the answer to some things in life isn't "choose another option" or "what else would you like to do"--sometimes we get no answers. But like my husband models for me, the word no has a lot more power and meaning when you use it sparingly.

7. The dishes can wait.

I'm far from a flawless housekeeper, but I do like to keep things generally tidy and I find my stress level rises when the house is out of order. My husband also likes things clean, but he knows how to leave the dirty dishes in the sink after dinner when our son wants to shoot hoops or the kids want to play hide and seek with him in the backyard. I usually stay in and clean while the rest of them play, but I think it's high time I let the dishes go and join in the fun to show my kids I value them more than sparkling countertops.

8. Raising your voice never helps. 

I thank the Lord that I have a husband who is extremely slow to anger (James 1:19; Proverbs 16:32) and pretty much never, ever raises his voice. I'm trying my best to follow your example honey, I promise.

9. Don't keep score. 

I know most mothers are the ones who are up at night with sick or scared kids, and I'm not sure if it's because his side of the bed is closest to our bedroom door or because I'm a deep sleeper, but my husband is usually up with the kids at night much more than I am (other than with a nursing baby). He never complains about getting up more than I do and in fact I whine about being tired much more than he does. Most of the time I don't even realize he's putting a kid back in bed or laying with them for an hour because I've slept right through the whole thing. He doesn't keep score about who is up how many times or resent it when the the odds are clearly in my favor. Yes, the man is a saint. I do try to let him catch a quick nap on the weekends. I'm not a terrible person, right?

10. Physical intimacy can be a cure all. 

Stressed? Tired? Overwhelmed? These are frequent maladies we parents suffer. Get close to the one you love (hint hint, wink wink) and you'll probably end up feeling a lot better. I've had more than my fair share of times when I couldn't be convinced of this truth, but I believe it's an important lesson nonetheless, and one I would never have learned without my husband's good natured "coaxing."

Happy Anniversary to the man who has my heart and who teaches me more every day about how to be the type of mother I want to be for our children. I love you!

Let them be little (and not just when it's cute)

A couple of months ago, I had a seismic shift in thinking that totally changed my perspective on parenting. What made such a difference in my outlook, you ask? I realized that... wait for it... my kids are... children. I know, life changing, right? I'm probably safe in assuming most of you are hoping for a bit of clarification. Here goes.

Raising children, especially small children, is always rewarding, sometimes inspiring, usually entertaining, and often fun, but it can also be incredibly frustrating, exhausting, and even maddening. Am I the only one who sometimes feels like my kids are conspiring against me? How about when your son throws a fit because he wants you to cut the crust off his sandwich, but then when you cut it off, he throws a fit because he wants the crust back on. Seriously child? Or when you kindly remind your daughter to empty her lunchbox after school for the 347th time and she promises she won't forget, only for your hopes that your sweet heart-to-heart was actually effective this time to come crashing down when you find rotting deli meat in her lunchbox the next day. What's wrong with you kid?

I'll tell you what's "wrong": Absolutely nothing. Our kids are children. Here's one apt definition for "child" I found on the web:

"An immature or irresponsible person."

Sounds about right, doesn't it?

Humans aren't born into this world as rational, mature, selfless, responsible, patient beings. Those are all learned traits. And guess whose job it is to teach, train, and mold them into people who have those admirable qualities I just listed? Yep, point that finger right back at yourself. I used to have a habit of wondering why on earth my children would get upset over the tiniest things, why they could sometimes be so selfish and unaware of the needs of others, why they could rarely ever obey the first time or remember tasks I asked them to do only seconds before. Eventually I realized my expectations were totally unrealistic. The way my kids were acting was 100% normal; that's what kids do--they're immature and irresponsible by nature.You were once the same way, and unfortunately, many adults still are. Nothing was "wrong" with them, I was expecting my children to react to situations the same way I would with years of experience and practice under my belt. It's when my children let go of their frustration before it peaks, when they put others first, when they obey the first time and are helpful without being asked that they are growing up and moving past behaviors typical of childhood. In those instances they should be not just meeting, but exceeding my expectations for children their age. When I look past the fact that my children's behavior can be inconvenient and sometimes downright annoying, I can clearly see that they are incrementally moving in that direction; moving away from childish behavior toward maturity.

When your child does something immature or irresponsible, that's not your cue to bemoan the fact that your kid is driving you crazy, that's the signal that there's something you need to teach and practice with her. What can you do to prepare her to cope with frustration or anger in a healthier way next time? How can you help your child see that his reaction made the problem worse rather than better? What tools can you equip her with to remind herself of expectations? I want to be a parent who praises my children as they take small steps toward outgrowing and moving past immature behavior rather than one who tears them down with every childish mistake they make along the way.

When your daughter has an irrational breakdown over the butter not being completely melted into her toast and still slightly visible on the surface, she's being a child, not being intentionally annoying. When your preschooler dumps out an entire bag of cinnamon toast crunch (don't judge) on your recently mopped floor, it's not because she doesn't care about your hard work, it's because her reaction time is much slower than an adult's and as she blankly stares at the pieces falling to the floor it takes a good 30 seconds for her brain to get the message that they're pouring out because she's holding the bag upside down.

"Let them be little" seems to be quite the trendy parenting catchphrase since the popular country song came out (seriously, check out the crafty stuff on Pinterest with that line). It's a cute little saying to remind us to not force our kids to grow up too fast; too let them laugh out loud and play in the mud. Let's remember, however, that along with the sweet parts of being little come the difficult aspects of being a child. Kids are learning to cope with the expectations, emotions, and disappointments of a life where every experience is something new. That takes a lot of practice and some carefully planned coaching, more for some than others.

Instead of expecting my kids to instinctively and naturally be on their "best behavior", aka typical adult behavior, I want to do my best to model and teach mature, responsible behavior as I patiently wait for the reward of seeing them inch toward becoming the selfless, responsible individuals I know they can be in time. Instead of reacting in frustration when my children do something immature or irresponsible, I want to remind myself to "let them be little" for just a bit longer and grant them some of the grace I so often need myself.


P.S.- I'm assuming I'll need to reread this post as a refresher when we get to the teenage years : )

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: 

but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

1 Corinthians 13:11

No buts about it

Last night I found myself annoyed with my husband over something small. So small that I have no recollection of what he did that got on my nerves. I acted bothered and when he asked what he did wrong I immediately knew I was the one at fault and wished I hadn't (yet again) found myself irritated unnecessarily.

"It's one of my character flaws, I get annoyed too easily; I know. I'm sorry," I said, 

"But..."

I stopped myself.

I realized there was no 'but' to add.

I've always placed a lot of value on apologizing quickly and easily. My parents, especially my mom, set a good example of saying sorry to us when they lost their temper. I say sorry to my kids freely and readily admit my weaknesses and mistakes so they understand that none of us is perfect. I try to teach them that a person who recognizes their flaws and strives to overcome them should be admired. While the words "I'm sorry" easily cross my lips with my kids, I have to admit that's not always the case when I should be speaking them to my husband. I know how important apologies are to a healthy relationship, but my pride sometimes enjoys letting my irritation hover over him for a while before I apologize. Darn pride--it always seems to be tripping me up. In the end, I do tell my husband I'm sorry and I've been getting better at saying those words more quickly. Please don't fact check with him on that one.

Although I've consistently offered apologies to my loved ones, after last I night, I recognized a gaping flaw in their content. I often express a sincere "I'm sorry" followed quickly by a "but..." qualifier.

To the kids:

"I'm sorry Mommy lost her temper... but you really should have obeyed the first time." 

"I'm sorry I got frustrated... but you need to be a better listener."

To my husband:

"I'm sorry what I said hurt you... but I don't think you understand what I really meant." 

"I'm sorry I was annoyed... but we've talked about this so many times."

Are these really apologies? I'm starting to realize they aren't. These statements are examples of trying to repair the relationship without accepting full responsibility for the wrong I perpetrated. A true apology puts us on the path of repentance; the essence of Christianity. Where is repentance without a sincere apology to the person you've offended? Even if you aren't religious, there is much to be learned from what scripture says about really being sorry.

Psalm 32:5 teaches us a bit about sincere repentance:

"I acknowledge my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid." 

It's pretty clear that when we try to qualify our apologies with either a justification of why we hurt someone or what the other person should have done differently, we're, in a sense, attempting to hide our iniquity.

Alma taught very clearly, "Do not endeavor to excuse yourself in the least point because of your sins." (Alma 42:30) James 5:16 tell us to "Confess [our] faults one to another." 

Are we confessing fault if we apologize but try to explain away our behavior? When I ruin an apology to my kids with an excuse, I teach them that they're not responsible for their own actions, others are. When I explain away my behavior to my husband, I show him that I value my wants and needs over his. 

I have a little saying written on a piece of paper on the wall in my kitchen that reads, 

"Don't get angry, get humble."

I think I may need to tape up another one next to it that adds,

"Get humble and apologize, no buts about it." 

"What progress can there be for a man unconscious of his faults? Such a man has lost the fundamental element of growth, which is the realization that there is something bigger, better, and more desirable than the condition in which he now finds himself..." 

"It is not uncommon for people to have remorse for mistakes made, for follies and sins committed, but to have no turning away from such frailties and evils. They may even feel penitent; but 'penitence,' we are told, 'is transient, and may involve no change of character or conduct.' Repentance, on the other hand, 'is sorrow for sin with self-condemnation, and complete turing away from the sin.' It is, therefore, more than mere remorse; 'it comprehends a change of nature befitting heaven.'" 

David O. McKay

Having it all together

Today as I drove out of the Costco parking lot, I pondered about what I've learned as a mother lately. I don't get a lot of pondering time so I take a moment when I get it. As I was driving, an interesting paradox struck me. The more I feel like I'm really "getting" this motherhood thing, the less it probably appears that way to others.

 Let me explain.

 I used to (and still sometimes do) worry about my kids' outfits. Seriously. I wanted them to look cute and put together, not primarily because I enjoy children's fashion, but because, in all honestly, I saw how they were dressed as a reflection on me. I would cringe if my daughter put on stripes and floral (this was before clashing patterns became a "thing" by the way) and would do everything in my power to convince her to wear something else. There were times I even hurt her feelings because despite my best efforts to mask my real motivation, she could tell I simply didn't like what she chose to wear. How sad and how selfish of me. I always admired the mom who seemed to let her kids wear character clothing from Walmart to their heart's content; her child who just learned to dress himself in backwards gym shorts, and her little girl wearing Christmas tights under shorts in July. I wished I could let go of trying to control my kids' fashion choices. On the other side of the coin, I also admire mothers whose children wear the latest trends and have perfectly styled hair. My children have lived up to that ideal from time to time, but for us, it was at the expense of peace in our home and my children's self-confidence. This morning my son came out of his room dressed for school in an outfit I never, ever would have chosen myself. He's recently taken up basketball and adopted a love for athletic clothes, which he mixes and matches with the preppy Gap clothing I prefer and bought previously in a way that makes me cringe. As my husband was heading out the door for work, I whispered to him "I've gotten so much better. I didn't feel the need to say a thing to Miles."

It may be that people used to think my kids looked put together, but now that I've matured into a mother that values their self-esteem and individual choice over my own pride, people could think that I'm a mom who doesn't care. 

I used to react to my children's behavior in public out of a fear of what others would think of their poor choices, and consequently, of my parenting. I'd sometime scold them more swiftly when other parents were around to show that I knew how to keep my children in line. As I've come to understand the differences between my kids, I've learned that not all kids can be molded to fit most people's vision (obviously non-parents) for how a child should act in public. Nor should they be forced to. We have a son who cannot sit still and listen. He needs to be doing something, holding something, looking at something. And when he is, he hears and retains everything. When I saw him having difficulty remaining still in the children's Sunday School last Sunday, instead of fruitlessly reminding him to turn around and sit on his rear, I handed him a book to look at. Because I knew that although some kids his age may be able to motionlessly and silently absorb a lesson, he can't. The other kids may not be allowed to hold a toy or book, but his mommy knows he needed something in his hands. And a big thanks to his amazing preschool teacher Mrs. Beth for helping me realize that.

Some people may have admired my effective parenting and consistent follow through when I didn't let any of my children's misbehaviors slide, but now that I care more about molding them into loving, character-filled adults rather than perfectly behaved Stepford children, some might think I give in too easily or ignore too much.

I used to play with my kids for hours on end every day. It was exhausting. This strict regimen came about mostly because I have a son (a different one) whose love language is quality time 100% and no matter how much time you spend with him, his time bucket is never full. Before he started school we did crafts, read books, built forts, played with blocks, on and on day after day. We had so much fun and made so many great memories, but although his quality time bucket was filling up, my energy bucket was bone dry. I still love playing with my children and try to make sure to spend some one-on-one time with each of them every day, but I've realized what an important skill it is for kids to learn to play with each other independent of any adults and also to entertain themselves. That it's possible to be perfectly happy without being constantly entertained is an important life lesson!

I remember proudly telling other mothers how much time I spent playing with my kids on the living room carpet each day in a way that might have made them question if they were spending enough time with their children. They may have thought I was a really great mother. Today, I wouldn't be surprised if someone like my old self wondered if I was a little selfish for ordering my kids to play outside and not ask me for anything for 30 minutes*. But I know my limits and know that I can't be a good mother when my bucket is empty. Me time isn't only for me, it's essential for the happiness of our whole family.

I've thrown the photo worthy Pinterest parties. And it was fun, except for the parts that weren't. The late night crafting that led to a cranky mom the next day, the stressed out search for the perfect coordinating items. Much like my children's clothing, I've realized that although things being pretty isn't a bad goal in and of itself, it can be if it means you're sacrificing something more important, like a loving, calm demeanor. I'm sure most of you already know this, but kids DO NOT care about homemade decorations, homemade food, homemade anything. In fact, they love the store bought stuff way more and going to Party City to pick up some made-in-China themed paper goods and cheap-o pinata has made my kids more happy than any beautiful handcrafted decor I've ever created. I'll still throw a pretty party if I feel like it, and if I have the time (yeah, right), but seeing the joy on my son's face when I let him have a "Lego miner" themed birthday and haphazardly decorate his own cake with random Lego figures and accessories brought me so much more joy than any praise I've received from adult party attendees for trendy mini chalkboard signs.

You're guaranteed to be admired for throwing creative, beautiful parties, but you're also guaranteed to be absolutely adored by a child who is allowed to throw the party of his dreams, not yours. I love that I can now recognize when I'm putting in effort to please those outside my inner circle versus when I'm doing it to please those who matter most. And your husband will definitely thank you when he realizes that the store-bought stuff cost 90% less than the crafting supplies you would have otherwise purchased.

You know who really "has it all together?"

The mom whose teenage daughter dies her hair a different color every month; she knows that her beautiful girl's hairstyle has no bearing on the goodness of her heart.

The mother who is always late for everything (we all have that friend), not because she doesn't care but because she puts being a patient, peaceful presence for her slow-to-get-ready kids ahead of shouting at them all morning to hurry up and complete the next task.

The mom whose house is messy because she used the time she was supposed to clean to instead snuggle and read to a child who really needed some mommy time.

I guess my point is that appearing to have it all together is definitely not all it's cut out to be. For me, letting go of other people's expectations (and even some of my own) and learning to prioritize my family's growth and happiness over forcing us into being the lifeless picture perfect family photo I sometimes have in my mind has made such a difference. I often think people who see us must wonder how we're all still alive, but it feels so good to not care.

*Rarely do they stay outside and never, ever do they not ask for anything, but I keep trying!

Also, my husband says this post should be called "What men have always known." Ha!

The last one?

When you decide to have five children, it's only natural that people will start asking about your planned family size. Jim Gaffigan has a whole bit about it. "Is this the last one?" has been among the top five questions I'm asked by friends, family, and strangers alike since the day my protruding belly made our most recent addition's impending arrival evident. I think most people wonder if we've decided to compete with the Duggars or if we've finally come to our senses. My standard answer during pregnancy was something along the lines of, "Yes, this will most likely be our last. I always wanted a big family and five feels 'big' to me." Although my husband and I essentially agreed on seven being the final number of Halseys in our household, my heart refused to allow me to answer a definitive "yes"to the frequent inquiries.

When the same question has been posed to me during the last few months, my borderline definitive answer that Mae is most likely our last child has morphed into "she's supposed to be." Yes, the itch to hold another red, puffy-faced, vernix covered newborn in my arms and against my tired, labor exhausted chest; to lift her to my breast to nurse for the first time and lock eyes with the new life that was formed in my womb; to assure her in quiet whispers just minutes after birth that I will take care of her and love her forever-- that itch, always come unnaturally soon for me. I have a six month old baby for heavens sake! I guess I'm addicted to the joy and empowerment that comes with that life-giving aspect of womanhood. What a miracle procreation is and what a privilege God has given to women. I have been so blessed.

So... Mae is "supposed to be" our last baby. But the thing is, lately I've had serious doubts. I don't know if I can bear seeing friends announce new pregnancies knowing I'll never have another newborn of my own. I have an inkling though, that such a feeling may be natural, normal even. From what I've heard, some women have a clear spiritual affirmation when their family is complete and that feeling remains consistently strong, while other women who feel similarly that they are done bearing children still experience a sort of longing for their childbearing years. I keep asking myself if I fit in that second category, or if, perhaps, God does have another little person in store for our family.

I also wonder, however, if rather than truly feeling our family is incomplete, I'm just afraid of the idea of never having a baby again because it means moving on from a stage of life I've been in for so long. Until a month ago, I'd been either pregnant or nursing a baby for more than eight years straight, and I currently still have a baby under a year old. I was lucky enough to conceive for the first time a short six months after our wedding so the only married life I've really known is one with a baby either in my belly or attached to my hip, and usually both at the same time. It's also during these same years that I've truly come to know myself as a woman and gained confidence in who I am as an individual. It seems only natural that a huge portion of my adult identity has been forged around and is intertwined with being a mother to many tiny children. Who am I without that? It's overwhelmingly busy, stressful, and exhausting, but also more rewarding than anything else I can imagine. Everywhere I go, I'm noticed as the mom who has her "hands full"- who am I when my hands aren't "full" in the same way? I can honestly say that the idea of forming an identity independent of being a mother to 3 kids under 4, or 4 kids 5 and under, or 5 kids 7 and under scares me. If I'm being completely honest, I think there's a part of me that selfishly doesn't want to let go of the recognition I get for being a mom who people think can "do it all" (yeah right!) with a gaggle of kids in tow. I know there are many, many years of mothering ahead of me, a lifetime even, some of which will undoubtedly prove even more emotionally and spiritually taxing than the past eight years. I doubt, however, that they will be as demanding of my time and physical energy as my years raising babies, toddlers, and preschoolers all at once. And to all the experienced mothers who are shaking their heads, knowing the fatigue of the sports carpools, seminary mornings, and science project deadlines that lie ahead, I'm sure I have no idea what I'm in for.

As I've pondered on this subject, I've realized that the demanding nature of having so many small children has actually been an excuse, albeit a legitimate one, for me to avoid developing and stretching myself in other ways. I haven't had time to focus on exercising regularly, haven't been able to reach out to every person I know I could help; there are old friendships that have gone neglected out of necessity and new friendships that could have been formed but haven't simply because of time constraints. Once all my kids are in school in a few years (well, if Mae is our last that's still five years away- ha!) and I have at least a few unscheduled hours in the day, I'll actually be responsible for deciding how to spend that free time. That's both a luxury and responsibility I haven't enjoyed for quite some time. That isn't to say that mothers of young children shouldn't spend time taking care of themselves; a lesson it's taken many years for me to learn. But going from a mom who feels guilty even putting her kids in the gym daycare for an hour so I can work out or drying my hair when I could be reading to my preschooler to one who has several child-free hours in the day scares me a little. Will I suddenly be expected to keep a spotless house now that I'll have time to clean? Should I use my time selflessly serving others by volunteering with a different charity each day? Do I actually take up a hobby, and if so, what on earth would it be and wouldn't it be selfish to do something fun while my husband is working to support our family? Time is such a precious commodity and once I actually have a bit to spare, I want a plan for how to use it. I'm clearly making the transition away from the stage of having babies at home much more complicated than it needs to be, but hey, that's what I do. And despite how natural it may be for many mothers to move to a new stage of life, switching my mind and heart from baby making mode to purely child rearing mode feels like a huge adjustment. It feels like reinventing myself.

Perhaps part of my confusion stems from the fact that in all honesty, I've rarely included God in my decision to grow our family. Mostly because I'm of the firm belief that if we have a righteous desire, we can be confident in acting on it of our own volition. Keeping the commandment to multiply and replenish the earth, especially when you have the financial means to do so, is surely a righteous desire. I always assumed God was pleased when we decided to have another child so I never really bothered to seriously ask him if we should. Deciding to stop having children is a totally different story. Actively preventing him from blessing us with future offspring needs to be a choice we make with God's will in mind, and I guess I'm not yet sure what his will is. I'm so mixed up with my own desires, emotions, and maybe even hormones, that I haven't yet heard his voice clearly through the chaos of my mind. Like someone said in the Sunday School class I taught on Sunday, it would sure be nice if God could just send me a clear, concise text message. Sounds a lot easier than putting in the time and effort to learn to recognize the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit speaking to me through the noise of life.

When I do feel the confirming voice of the Spirit that our family is complete, whether now or sometime in the future, I have no doubt I'll mourn what I'm moving on from. No more nursing babies to sleep or watching them learn to crawl; no more wiping running noses or kissing boo boos away; no more preschool mother's day concerts or teaching them their letters. The past eight years have molded me into the woman I am today, and I'm proud of who I've become. But I'm also sure that what will lie ahead of me-- years of leading, teaching, playing with, and learning from my children; watching them make good and bad choices and experiencing happiness and heartaches; seeing them discover who they want to be-- will bring me just as much joy and perhaps even more satisfaction than the stage of life I'm currently in. And I'm also hoping that once I get used to having a few hours to myself each day I'll eventually be able to dry my hair guilt-free.

So to you mothers who know their families are complete, how exactly did you come to "know"? And once you knew, was it still hard to move on to the next stage of life? How long until you could attend a baby shower without being at least a little sad that you'd never have another sweet smelling fresh new babe of your own?

The Person is the Message

I love the Focus on the Family Broadcast. If you don't listen to it, get the app and tune in. It's almost always a bright spot in my day. Last week, David Brooks, the New York Times columnist, was a featured guest. The interview focused on his most recent book, "The Road to Character," which is now on my to-read list. During the on-air conversation, Brooks said something I instantly knew I needed to hear: "The person is the message."

Later that day, I went and wrote it on a bright white 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper and attached it to the side of our kitchen pantry with blue painters tape, next to several other inspiring quotes and reminders I've put up over the last couple of years.

"The person is the message," I wrote.

And I added below it:

"I am the lesson my kids are learning."

You may be wondering to yourself how I could find something that simple and obvious to be so profound. It's true that we've heard over and over again since childhood that "actions speak louder than words," but for some reason it's been hard for me to always remember and apply that basic lesson when it comes to parenting. Of course I try to model good behavior for my children, but despite my best efforts, I fail over, and over again. And usually in the same areas. I get frustrated and lose my temper or I find myself feeling annoyed too easily, often over trivial matters. Why can't it be easier to overcome our weaknesses once we recognize them?

The people who have taught me the most in life aren't those who have spoken the most eloquent words, had the quickest whit, or even those who shared the most spiritual insight; the people I've learned the most from are those who live their every day lives in a way I admire. People who are filled with character and who model, as David Brooks called them, "the euology virtues" rather than the "resume virtues." I'm sure you can imagine what he was talking about.

I want to be that type of example and practical teacher for my children. And I, like all of us, can do better.

I want to:

Be selfless.

Serve others.

Be a good listener.

Speak only kind words about others.

Assume the best of others.
Minimize technology use.

Enjoy hard work.

Try things that are difficult.

Be self-reflective.

Willingly admit mistakes.

Say I'm sorry.

Be humble instead of angry.

Avoid comparison.

Accept criticism with grace.

Give others grace.

Give myself grace!

Be thankful.

I constantly pray and think about how I can mother my children better. How I can help them gain strong faith and develop a relationship with Jesus Christ; how I can teach them to be peacemakers and learn to be kind even when they don't get their way; how I can get them to love to work hard without expecting reward or recognition. After this recent reflection on the fact that it's me who is the lesson my kids are learning, I've decided I need to spend less time worrying about how I can push and prod my children into becoming wonderful people (although they are doing pretty darn well on their own anyway). Instead, I want to spend more time forging my own path toward our mutual goal of becoming loving souls filled with character. As I clear the path a bit ahead of them, they'll be able to better see our destination and, hopefully, want to follow me there. And it won't surprise me a bit if it's I who will eventually be following them. It won't be the first time it's happened with these amazing kids of mine.

Although this isn't a totally new insight, thinking of my actions, rather than my words, as my children's teacher has proven to be a game-changer in the last week at home with my children. I've found greater patience and more joy as a mother as I try to react to difficult parenting situations like a tantrum, sibling argument, or disobedience from the perspective of what behavior I want to model for my children rather than what lesson I want to teach them. And it's so much easier to control myself than it is to try to control my five little people.

As an interesting parallel, the familiar refrain of "what would Jesus do" is so much more powerful than the possible substitute "what would Jesus say," isn't it? The person truly is the message. 

The Metronome of the Home

When I think back on my childhood, so many of my memories are foggy. Some I'm not even sure if I remember for having experienced them or because I've seen pictures or been told they happened. One silly memory that clearly sticks out in my mind though, is that whenever my parents, sisters, and I would be heading out for a family outing to the beach, for a hike, or to the mall food court (obviously the best choice for a family who could take hours to come to a consensus on a restaurant), it seemed my mom would always be rushing around until the very last second doing chores. She'd often start a load of laundry in the garage as we all sat in the car watching her and waiting with the engine running, annoyed and wondering why she was taking so long and preventing the rest of us from leaving on the much anticipated adventure. "Seriously?" I'd say to my sisters, "Can't the laundry just wait?" "Those Hackett's definitely have some OCD tendencies," I'd tell myself. "This is the same woman who has to have vacuum lines in the carpet before guests arrive." (Love you mom!)

Well, I'm now a mother of five myself and have been blessed like my mother before me to be able to make the choice to stay home with my children full time and take on a large share of the household duties while my husband works away from home earning income to support our family. I've recently been haunted by the memory of my annoyance, sometimes verbally expressed, that my mom always had to start that one extra load of laundry. In fact, I now consistently start a load or move laundry to the dryer after buckling my kids in the car to go somewhere. Why? Because I know that if I don't start that laundry before we leave and are gone for two hours, it won't be done in time for me to move it to the dryer before bedtime, and my potty training toddler won't have any underwear to put on the next day and I also won't have any pants to wear because well, I only own one pair of jeans that fit and I decided they'd hit their max wear-time at three weeks without washing. No one else in our family thinks of these things. I also sometimes buckle the kids in and run back inside to wipe the kitchen counters and do a one minute pick-up of the kitchen and living room. If I don't do it then, when we get back and unload all our junk from the car and I have to start dinner, the stuff will accumulate in those rooms exponentially and it will be more of a battle to clean before bedtime. The kids aren't thinking ahead that far. Yes, I am now my mother. It never ceases to amaze me how previous ways of thinking come back to haunt us.

This laundry lesson has caused my to reflect on so many other things my mom did that went unnoticed or unappreciated; things she did that I actually rolled my eyes at that I definitely should have been thanking her for. I recently listened to part of an NPR series about the people who fill every day jobs that go largely unnoticed, jobs that we may never even think about because they're largely invisible like the night shift janitor at the building where we work. It's so easy to take the fact that something is done for us for granted when we don't see or don't notice the person who does it for us. It can be easy for a full time homemaker to fall into that category. There are probably plenty of husbands and children who don't notice clean clothes being put into their drawers every few days until the one day the laundry doesn't get done and they can't find what they're looking for. Or the fact that the refrigerator and cupboard are always stocked with each family member's favorites. Not only are the dishes done after every meal, but the counters are wiped and the sink and faucet cleaned too. The odds and ends left in random corners around the house at the end of the day end up in the right room for each child to put away in the morning. The backpacks are sorted through, old granola bar wrappers thrown away, and special notes from best friends put into the keepsake box.

Often it is the mother who keeps the rhythm of the home moving along, steadily plotting forward. Maybe she loses her temper every once in a while, a loud crescendo that everyone takes notice of, or maybe she weeps quietly in bed at the end of particularly challenging parenting day, a moving adagio to which her husband reacts in love. A happy staccato of mother and children laughing together in the backyard is memorable. But the steady, rhythmic beat of her footsteps through the house completing seemingly mundane, daily tasks is really what holds the family together. It is a testament to her dedication to those she loves.

 If you're married to one of these women, who like my mother, is the metronome of daily living for your home, thank her. Thank her by noticing what she does, especially the small things that, yes, anyone can do, but she has chosen to do for you and your children as an act of love. She's probably very intelligent, likely has a college education, and certainly has ambitions, many of which she has put on hold for a season because she felt an overwhelming desire to fully dedicate this season to home. And to all you working mothers who still do the bulk of those invisible jobs at home like laundry and cleaning: I am in awe. I write from my own experience outside of the labor force, but I admire and learn so much from your ability to balance two lives with such grace.

And back to the husbands, in case you don't instinctively do it already, follow the example of my wonderful mate: When you're home, share equally in the task of taking care of the home and children. Don't ask what needs to be done. If the rug looks dirty and you have a minute, pull out the vacuum and get started. A big thank you to my father-in-law who set that example beautifully to his children.

If you, dear reader, haven't thanked your own mother recently for all she did, and likely still does, for you, tell her, call her, or better yet, write her a note that she can keep forever and read again later. Thank her especially for the small things, that yes, anyone can do, but she did for you, her child, as an act of love.

And finally, if you're that mother who is sometimes overwhelmed with the mountains of laundry and towers of dirty dishes, who wants to sleep in instead of make school lunches, or who would love to for once finish cleaning up a meal before the children start asking for their next snack; a woman who feels unappreciated for all you do day in and day out for those you love; remember, you can choose to do it for them, as an act of love.

Teach your children to recognize everything you do for them, teach them to do chores, wash dishes, and put away their own laundry. The more they thank you for your service and the more they do for themselves, the more they'll recognize and thank others in the world who serve them like teachers, bus drivers, firefighers, policeman, librarians, food servers, salespeople, and on and on. And the more they'll want to serve others, the ultimate goal.

I have found, however, that although it's wonderful to be appreciated, and especially to be explicitly thanked, there is something very special about simply knowing within that you, Mother, are the metronome of the home, keeping things moving forward with the steady pace of your footsteps from room to room in service to those you love. Treasure that role as one of many; find joy in it. Even if they complain when you stop to throw in one last load of laundry before you get in the car to drive them to the mall food court.

"But so shall it not be among you:

but whosoever will be great among you, shall be your minister:

And whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall be the servant of all.

For ever the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, 

and to give his life a ransom for many."

Mark 10:43-45

The Mom Salute

Miles and Tess have been recovering from an awful stomach virus that resulted in a cancelled birthday party for a very sad six year old and a ridiculous amount of laundry. There was also the incident on Sunday when two children threw up during the Sacrament (communion) at church, but that probably deserves its own post. We kept thinking Tess was better and then she'd throw up again at seemingly random times about once every 24 hours. Poor baby and poor vomit cleaner-uppers (that would be Byron and I).

This morning after I dropped Lila and Cal off at school we were heading to well-check visits for Miles and Mae when Tess had another unexpected relapse and threw up all over her carseat while we were driving on the freeway about 10 minutes away from the pediatrician's office. This was the third carseat barfing incident since Friday. Not to be deterred, I pressed on, stripped Tess in the parking garage, and headed in with her in a diaper. Once we got there, I noticed Mae also had a diaper blow-out on the way. Halsey bodily functions were clearly running rampant today. The appointment went as smoothly as could be expected when you're confined to a tiny room with a very tired infant, an almost two year old who keeps saying "I cared" (scared) in adorable voice, and a six year old who is absolutely terrified of shots and knows he's about to be immunized. 

When the appointment was over, we headed to the pharmacy in our pediatrician's medical building since I had bribed an incredibly upset Miles with the promise of a treat. After an agonizingly long time waiting for him to decide what he wanted, I finally left the building pushing a diapered Tess in the stroller while she held a single serving size of Oreos and a bag of Ruffles cheddar and sour cream chips, holding a similarly naked Mae in one arm, and with Miles trailing behind eating sour skittles. We crossed the street to the parking garage and were about to cross paths with another mom and her two kids when she and I inadvertently made eye contact. I quickly looked away, wishing I could explain to her why my two babies were naked and my kids were eating a ridiculous amount of junk food. I immediately imagined how she was judging me. I'm not sure why I dared to look back her way as she got closer, but I'm so glad I did because as I caught her eye she unexpectedly flashed me a beautiful smile that relayed more understanding, sympathy, and compassion that I knew was possible from a single expression. Then with that knowing smile still glowing, she paused to stand still for a moment, brought her hand quickly to her forehead, moved it straight out in a sharp salute, and then continued on her way out of the parking garage. The mom salute!!! No words were spoken and they didn't need to be. The salute said it all, and it was exactly what I needed to hear.

Why isn't this something they teach you at the hospital when you give birth to your first child? Every mom needs to know the value of this simple act. When you see another mom struggling with a whiny, wriggling toddler in the grocery store; when you see her cleaning out pooped underwear in a public restroom; when you hear the lamblike piercing cry of a newborn that refuses to be soothed in the aisles of Target; when you see a stressed out mother at the park trying to break up a sibling fight for what is most likely the 876th time that day, I have one recommendation: the mom salute. Try it; I guarantee it will make her day. It certainly made mine.

A peek inside my schizophrenic mind (and the dangers of ingratitude and envy)

I am a minimalist.  I must get rid of anything I own that I don't absolutely love or that doesn't add value to my everyday life.  It feels so so good to have less stuff to take care of, organize, and clean.  I'm so glad I purged all that junk; I don't even miss it.  I'm going to move on the bookshelves next, there's a ton I can rid of in there.  It's almost like I get a high from getting rid of things.  I'm so glad I came across those minimalist blogs...

I've never seen her wear the same thing twice.  She always looks so cute. I really need more clothes, I have nothing to wear.  At least a new outfit for church would be nice.  Oh look, she got new living room pillows... again.  Her house looks so cheery now!  I need new pillows, I'm sick of mine. It would be better to save that money for the kids' college funds though.

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I'm so proud of myself for being a mom who doesn't worry all the time about what my kids look like.  I'm happy to let them pick their own clothes, even if it's far from what I would choose.  Let kids be kids and give them at least a bit of control over aspects of their life that really don't matter.  It's so much less stressful not having any battles over what they wear...  

Her kids always look so cute!  There's no way she's buying all their clothes on the sale racks at Target and Old Navy.  Three different colors of saltwater sandals for the toddler and two pairs of freshly picked moccasins for the baby?  Isn't that a bit of overkill?  And they're so expensive!  I wish my kids had cuter clothes and would let me dress them. I do really love those moccasins.  Her whole family always looks so put together.

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Being a stay at home mom is the best.  I'm so blessed.  And exhausted.  And often lonely and sometimes even bored, even though I rarely have a minute to spare.  How is it possible to be bored when you're busy caring for four children all day? This is all I've ever wanted to do; what God made me for.  I'm so lucky that Byron's job allows us to live on one income so I can stay home.  I wouldn't trade this time with the kids for anything.  Life feels so right when I'm playing with them in the backyard or when I'm doing laundry in the garage while they ride bikes up and down the street. I keep saying this pregnancy will probably be my last, but secretly I think I'd like at least one more...

She runs a design business from home?  How does she possibly find time for that with three young kids at home?  She must never sleep or have time with her husband.  I wish I had something I could do on the side.  It would be nice to have a creative outlet and I wouldn't complain about a bit of extra spending money either.  She appears to shower, put on makeup, AND dress adorable every day too... how does that woman do it?  It would be nice not to be embarrassed about my shabby appearance half the time. I wonder if there's some kind of business I could do on the side.

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I'm so blessed to live in San Diego, one of the most desirable cities in the country, in a comfortable home, near wonderful neighbors. So many people probably wish they could live this kind of dream life. I love our kitchen remodel and wouldn't change a thing about it.  Thank you Lord for all you've given me.  There sure are a lot of other home projects we have left to tackle though...

Custom built-ins in every room? Wow, that is a really gorgeous house.  Do real people actually live in homes like this?  I wonder how they can afford it; I don't think he makes that much money. They probably went into a lot of debt.  I wish we could live out in the country somewhere with a huge yard and lots of outdoor space for the kids to explore and run free. That would be a dream life.  But Byron's 15 minute commute is also pretty dreamy, and we'd have to sacrifice that.  Well, we'll just have to find a new job that pays as well, still has amazing work life balance, and that he likes as much, but in another, much cheaper rural area, near family, where we can find a beautiful historic home on several gorgeous acres and then find the time to fully restore and update it on a budget.  Yes, that's what would make me happy.

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Brutally honest, I know.  Luckily most of the time my thoughts drift towards the more positive, uplifting thoughts described above, along with many other happy reflections on my life.  I know with certainty that I am among the most blessed people on this planet.  To come from a family who loves me unconditionally, raised me to know and serve God; to be married to a man whose loyalty and love I can be absolutely sure of, who is an outstanding father to our children; to have easily conceived and birthed four healthy, beautiful children who bring joy into my life every day and easily forgive my motherly shortcomings; to live in a prosperous, peaceful, and free country, where I can feel secure in my family's safety from day to day; to have been raised in an upper middle class economic situation where money, let alone food or shelter, was never a worry, and to continue to enjoy that status in my married life thus far.

I do not exaggerate when I say that I could go on and on listing all of the good things in my life.  I've told people before that I've lived a charmed life because it's true, and it has nothing to do with anything I've done.  I've just been extremely blessed.  I must have an easier, more carefree life than 99% of the people who have lived on this planet.

Why, then, is it so easy to compare myself to those around me (or in some cases not actually around me, but in front of my eyes on the internet or social media) who have what I might view as "more" than me when there are so many more people who have less than I do?  It's a question I ask myself often and the lesson I keep teaching myself over and over again is simple: Stop. Be happy for the beautiful things, families, and careers other people have.  Rejoice with and for them. Stop and think of all you love in your life.  There is SO much I love about being me.  And another thing: Stop looking at the internet if you start to get those kinds of feelings.  They aren't from God and they're actually leading you away from God.  Dwelling on envy will without a doubt lead to a very unhappy life.

I do recognize that comparison isn't always a bad thing.  Noticing another mother's patience and striving to emulate that virtue is undoubtedly a worthwhile endeavor.  If there's a quality another individual or family has that I admire, I don't hesitate to recognize it and implement a plan to incorporate it into my life.  These virtues or qualities aren't material goods or physical attributes and obtaining them doesn't require changing anything in my actual life circumstances.  These are the things I should be looking to change and improve in my life rather than my wardrobe or living room pillows.

So this is my public admission that envy is something that I struggle with from time to time.  In my heart I know that it's ridiculous to be jealous of what anyone else has considering how very much I have myself, but envy still manages to rear its head in my life once in a while.   And when it does I'm going to keep choosing to recognize it for what it is and push those envious feelings to the side and instead focus on gratitude for what I have.  And even more than that, I'll use those negative feelings as a reminder to pray and search my heart for ways I can be a blessing to so many in the world who have less than me and even those who appear to have more, because I know without a doubt they have unfulfilled needs too.

A sound heart is the life of the flesh: but envy the rottenness of the bones.

Proverbs 14:30

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up."

1 Corinthians 13:4

A Mother's Thoughts

My poor husband. I haven't been very easy to live with lately. I'm pretty sure he received no less than 26 text messages from me last week telling him about mini catastrophes I was up against, many of them in fact "caltastrophes," a term my genius sister in law Geri came up with. I'm certain that Byron longs for simpler times, when a working husband could easily use his secretary to screen phone calls from a frazzled stay at home mother. I edit the crises down and post about one out of ten on Instagram to rally a bit of moral support from fellow mothers while still trying to avoid inundating my social media friends with a constant stream of toddler mishaps.

For a while I really thought I was in my groove taking care of four kids.  Of course the summer was made easier by the fact that much of it was spent with family, where extra hands and playmates are plentiful.  But even on my own, I felt like I had a routine going.  Last week threw me for a total loop.  It was Lila's first week back in school which meant my summertime backup plan of staying in jammies and hanging out at home all day if anything went majorly wrong in the morning was out the window.  You can't let your first grader skip school just because the baby was up all night nursing so you couldn't get yourself out of bed until after 7, the kids refuse to eat breakfast, a huge glass of milk spilled all over toys and books, your daughter won't stop crying because her hair and/or outfit aren't right, and there's poop on your toy room floor.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention I had the genius idea to start potty training last week too.  And the little ones' naps are now on the "she naps, he naps, she naps" someone is napping round the clock schedule.  Good luck getting out of the house!

I absolutely love being a mother and I cherish the blessing it is to have our four kids in such close succession.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  In fact, the only real down side is that because I (ahem, I mean "we,"... but yes, mostly "I") chose to have four kids very quickly, I often feel I can't complain about or even simply discuss or bring up the difficulties that come with having so many very young children. I'm afraid that doing so would somehow send the message that having our kids the way we have was somehow the wrong choice or one that I regret, which is simply not the case.  Just because something is the right choice doesn't mean it is an easy one. In fact in my experience, the opposite is often true. During these past six years motherhood has stretched me thinner than I could have imagined, but that stretching has resulted in far more growth than I could have experienced in any other way. I know our life is just as God intended.

In saying that I try to avoid complaining about the craziness of being a stay at home mom to four kids six and under, I should clarify that there is one poor soul who singlehandedly shoulders the burden of fielding those complaints: my poor husband.  He is truly a brave soul.  He even told me the other day that he had a spiritual prompting that we should indeed have more children, an idea he was starting to grow leery of (I wonder why? Our home is nothing but peaceful obedience and order), but that I already knew intuitively.  I'm certain that fielding my complaints causes him more stress than the actual situations I complain about bring me.  I can't imagine going through life without this gentle, kind, selfless, hilarious man at my side. Goal: Complain less. Or find a new person to complain to. Give the poor guy a break. 

Lila has been very emotional lately. She is the type of girl who tries so hard to do things right that when things don't go how she anticipates or desires, she totally loses it. Her meltdowns can easily make my blood boil and the volume of my voice rise. I hate it. "It" being my immature reaction. I came across a little saying on Facebook the other day (the omniscient source of parenting wisdom) that really struck home. It said something like, "Don't be so busy trying to raise your children to be good people that you don't realize that they already are." I make that mistake a lot. I try to be consistent about recognizing the things my kids do right, to compliment their achievements and good choices to daddy when he comes home, to tell them the reasons they are so wonderful. But sometimes I find myself getting caught up in analyzing what I can do to help them overcome what I perceive as their weaknesses or imperfections instead of marveling at the well-intentioned, big hearted, amazing kids they are.  My quest to become a "good" parent is sometimes at the expense of being an unconditionally loving one.  Goal: Focus more on how great my kids are and less what I can do to "improve" them.

I tell Lila she gets her clumsiness and temper from me. She certainly didn't get them from her athletic, borderline saint father. Those qualities are of course the two things about her that drive me the craziest. Tonight, as we usually do before family prayer, we talked about what we were thankful for and what we should ask for.  I asked her to pray for mommy that she'll have more patience and won't lose her temper. Without skipping a beat she said, "and pray for me that I won't lose my temper too. I get that from you." It might not sound like a Hallmark moment, but for me it really was.  I felt a flood of love wash over both of us as together we recognized our shared weakness but also our desire and ability to become better through God's grace. I am so grateful to have the gospel of Jesus Christ to guide me as I raise these beautiful little ones. I thank God for them all day, every day, even on the hard days. There is no greater joy I can imagine than raising these precious children with the love of my life. I love being a mother, during the good times and the bad.  There are so many more good times than bad.  And if you need a sounding board for tales of your chaotic life as a mom, feel free to hit me up. Trust me, we can definitely swap stories.

It's getting late and I need to spend a few minutes of alone time with my much better half before we go to bed, but for anyone who's read this far, here's a beautiful poem I found several months ago in the Duggar's book "A Love that Multiplies." I wrote it out and put it up on the refrigerator as a reminder of what's really important. I love that insanely huge family; they're so great.

Love

If I live in a house of spotless beauty with everything in its place but have not love--I am a housekeeper, not a homemaker.

If I have time for waxing, polishing, and decorative achievements, but have not love--my children learn of cleanliness, not godliness.

Love leaves the dust in search of a child's laugh.

Love smiles at the tiny fingerprints on a newly cleaned window.

Love wipes away the tears before it wipes up the spilled milk.

Love picks up the child before it picks up the toys.

Love is present through trials.

Love reprimands, reproves, and is responsive.

As a mother there is much I must teach my child, but the greatest of all is ... LOVE.

(Too lazy to look up who wrote it- I can find the author in the book if anyone is interested.)

Just a few reasons why I love being mom (lately)

1.  The look of triumph on my toddler's face when he does the splits on the playground handrails for the first time. Haha!

2.  School performances.  Love them.

My sweetheart dressed up as a giant construction paper flower at the Kindergarten Mother's Day Tea? The cute-o-meter just burst right there.

And double the happiness that she is still at an age where she gets SO excited to have me visit her school for stuff like this.

This guy's preschool performance was pretty awesome too, and he has the best smile.

3.  Nights out (to mobster themed parties) are infinitely more appreciated when they are few and far between.

4.  Baby smiles!!!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?  I'll take 10 more babies please.

5.  It doesn't take much for me to basically be a superhero in my kids' eyes.

Ice cream at McDonald's after school?  Might as well be dinner at Buckingham Palace.

Plastic storage tubs and a cooler filled with hose water in the backyard?  Who needs expensive waterpark tickets!

6.  Crazy bedhead is ALWAYS good for a smile.

7.  As is a crazy outfit at the mall (or pretty much anywhere).  Yep, my kid's got style!

8.  Messes.  So many MESSES!!! ... and opportunities to laugh really, really hard about them.  Yes, that's the entire tube of my favorite lipstick.

9.  Improving my art skills in ways I never imagined.  Miles and I draw/paint/create multiple pictures/crafts/puppets of his choosing on a daily basis.  It's always a team effort.  Never thought I'd be drawing cutesy cartoon character versions of deer hunting.

10.  Pirate cowboy faces at the rodeo.

... and cowboy boots on diaper babies.

 11.  Mommy/daughter dates that have us both belly laughing followed by Lila saying "This is SO fun mommy."  Heart officially melted.

12.  Selfies like this and those above that are SO much better than those self-absorbed duck face ones.  Am I right?

Mom = best job/responsibility/divine calling/blessing EVER.