Growing Up

I find myself wondering, when did this happen? And how did it happen? And I want to yell to the person driving the train STOP. STOP. RIGHT. NOW. But even that isn’t true because I want to see your life unfold and continue to marvel at the great gift that is you. And when I look at you, though time speeds forward, you are all the ages you’ve ever been to me. You are years and seasons and growth and pain and humility and joy. You are my tiny, tiny babes and my teenage sons in the same breath. You are every moment we’ve ever shared and this is a beautiful thing. 

Our Gifts Don't Have to Be Perfect

I've just spent a chunk of time reading some blog posts from 2011. 

My gosh, it makes me miss my own life!

 I've been walking down memory lane (as I lie in my bed) and realizing, again, how much I love what I do every day.

Today, though, my life feels 1000% times more busy than it did then.

I don't spend lazy mornings writing letters with the kids 

or admiring pirate ships in the neighborhood on morning walks in October. My boys aren't 5 anymore; they're turning 12 and will be ordained deacons next month. (Insert: What. Is. Happening?)

I'm sending my baby to kindergarten this year. She's ready and confident and happy.

I work now, for pay, something I didn't have on the plate years ago.

Life has gotten busier as the kids have gotten bigger, which seems ironic, right? I mean...they actually become more independent than they were in younger years. Shouldn't I have more time, not less?

I'm totally aware that these four hearts are growing up fast.

Just tonight, I was shutting down lights and checking locks and realizing that my boys probably have 7 more Christmases at home, including this year.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again:

I would do this thing again, in a heartbeat. Being a mother has been the greatest 

privilege of my life.

I was watching a friend's Instagram story yesterday afternoon and thinking what a beautiful childhood she and her husband are giving to their two small children (3 and 1). 

So I messaged her and told her.

I'm going to quote the conversation at this point, because I want to share something I've learned in my mothering journey. But it's actually really something I have learned over the last few years of my life--in the wake of losing my father to cancer, having my husband leave, going through a divorce, trying to pick up the pieces, accepting huge changes, beginning the journey of being a single mother, starting a job, and?

Just. trying. to. juggle. everything. 

These years have been exhausting--in basically every way. 

But honestly? 

They have also been the deepest and most beautiful years of my spiritual life to this point.

I have known intense sorrow and grief and self-criticism and pain, but I've also known shocking joy. I have felt incredible happiness and relief and hope and forgiveness and light and God's love in astounding measures. 

I love my life! And I wouldn't trade the experiences in to have my former self.

But, I digress.

So, I complimented my friend. 

And she responded: "Thank you so much for saying that, that's so kind. It's getting harder as they get older (in a different way)."

And I responded: "I think what matters is that they have your heart. And your attention. There was a time for me, a few years ago, when I had an important realization that brought a lot of peace, and it was this: My gifts were imperfect. I was imperfect. Mothering was staring me in the face and it was so much bigger than what I had anticipated. And I knew that what I had to give wouldn't always measure up. I knew I'd fall apart, become the worst version of myself sometimes, and that I wouldn't always be happy with my performance. Those days are hard. I still don't like those days. And honestly, as my kids have gotten bigger, so have the questions and challenges. But, here's the thing. I remember having this realization, though I don't remember how it happened. But one day I asked myself this question: "Do you love them with everything you have? Are they the most important thing? Do they have your whole heart?" And suddenly I felt such peace because there was no confusion there. It was an immediate, "YES! SO MUCH YES!" And it was like I realized that was enough. The spirit taught me something important

then. Despite the difficulty and challenges and questions and my obvious imperfections,

it was okay. They have my whole heart and they know that I love being their mother.

And you know what? I hope that, one day, they see Elizabeth, not just their mom. 

They see me as a person trying to figure it out, and maybe that will help them when 

they're trying to figure it out too. 

The other part is that I trust in the atonement so much more to make up the gaps where 

my trying falls short. So, I guess in the end, that's why I say I think it's all about love. 

Yours, and His. I truly trust that, and know that our gifts don't have to be perfect."

I'm sharing that because I hang my hat on those two thoughts. And because maybe it will help someone else who struggles when they feel they don't measure up, in any capacity; when they're staring down the barrel of their lives wishing they were better than they are, or that they'd done things differently, or made different choices, 

or been more (fill in the blank).

I think life becomes bigger than we anticipated, and the questions and challenges

and heartache do too. But, at least for me, that has been the price of learning and authenticity and growth and JOY.

Our lives are My life is messy and gloriously imperfect and I've come to love it that way.

I'm so glad I get to make mistakes and learn! 

And so thankful for beauty and grace and joy.

And I absolutely trust God's love for me and for you as we're figuring things out.

Letter Writing on Thursday

Last weekend the kids and I drove to Southern Utah to spend a couple of days at a friend's parents' ranch.

Can I just say how much I love that wide open, rugged landscape? I felt so happy and light as we drove along. 

I've got the West in my blood and bones.
(I also heart this picture of Mia.)

And every time I travel with these peeps, I'm amazed at how easy they are.

They read, sometimes we listen to audio books, we talk, listen to music, and sometimes we dance.
They are the best travelers.

While there, we rode 4-wheelers,

the kids got to help feed the cows,

and despite the fact that Lisa's mom has cancer and her hair just started falling out, she loved on all these kids and taught mine how to ride the 4-wheelers on their own.

Coop shot a little bird when the boys were out on the 4-wheeler by themselves. He and Benj pulled off the wings and feathers, cut it open, salvaged the meat, grilled it up, and ate it.

 (Claire wanted to try it too.)

I want the kids to write thank you notes to send to Lisa's parents, so after Claire and I ate breakfast this morning, we worked together on hers. (I write the letters on one paper, and she copies them on her own.)

I've said this before, but 

I'm not sure there's anything I love more than learning-to-write-your-letters handwriting.

(See this post and this post and this post, for example.) 

I love her little tongue poking out in concentration, and the amaryllis on the table (see that little green spear just beginning to emerge from one of them!).

 After the note was done, we did her first reading lesson.

(I've taught all my people how to read, and I'm not about to miss out with this one--even if she does decide to do public school for kindergarten this year.)

Then we listened to some tunes, danced the "Boot Scoot N' Boogy" together in the front room, and I cleaned up the kitchen.

She's watching The Nutcracker now (her request--we have a DVD of it by the San Francisco Ballet), I'm sitting beside her on my bed about to plug in to work, and I've got meat thawing on the counter for meatloaf and baked potatoes for dinner.

I love these simple, quiet, ordinary moments of day-to-day life.

They are special.

Have I told you how much I love being a mom and how I wouldn't miss it for the world?

#truth

So far, this Thursday is giving me alllllllllll the good vibes.

Happy Thursday to you too--whoever you are, and wherever you are.

xoxo

Lazy

I'm quite enjoying these post-Christmas days.

I've been sleeping in until 10:30ish, eating Lucky Charms and chocolate. 

I've spent a lot of time snuggled in my covers.

It feels amazing...cuz, let me tell you:

December felt like a completely exhausting whirlwind.

Beautiful (which I'm going to post about), but I was bone-tired too.

In fact, here's something from a little ways into December, on a Saturday night when I was feeling completely worn out. I was on my bed and wrote out what I'd done over the previous two days: 

"Woke up on Friday. House was cold. Texted furnace guy friend. Made pancake birthday breakfast for Claire and Russian tea. Fed everybody. Did Mia’s hair. Made her a lunch. Dropped everybody off. Came home. Read to Claire. Cleaned up the kitchen. Furnace guy came. Got Claire ready. Dropped her off to school. Hurried home. Worked. Picked up Claire. Came home. Made birthday cake. Made her birthday dinner. Cleaned up. Showered and got ready. Plugged in to work again. Picked up the older kids. Came home. Made frosting. Frosted the cake. Made salad. Served dinner to everybody. Cleaned up (made the boys help this time). Served up cake and ice cream to everybody. Boys and Claire left with Scott. Cleaned up. Made sugar cookie dough for Claire’s friend party the next day. Found birthday bingo template cards for Claire’s party. Printed them off. Cut them out. Traced and cut out trees for the birthday bags. Got ornament gifts ready. Long talk with Mia. Went for a run with Mia. Came home, took a hot shower, read my scriptures, went to bed. 

Woke up. Headache, still from yesterday. Made toast and took medicine. Took a shower. Realized I was three hours behind on work. Worked. Got ready. Drove to IKEA to get one of Isaiah’s Christmas presents and pick up Grayson and Bella. Stopped at Walmart on the way home for small cookie cutters. Came home. Baked cookies. Cleaned everything up. Made frosting, two different colors. Managed a birthday party for seven girls: decorating cookies, serving up cake and ice cream, playing bingo. Cleaned everything up. Went to Walmart for Christmas wrapping paper and Christmas shopping. Stopped at Papa Murphy’s on the way home to get pizza for the kids and at the grocery store to get roast and potatoes for tomorrow (Sunday dinner). Came home and put pizza in the oven. Found lights out on the tree. Cleaned up again. Got dinner for everyone and turned on a movie. Unloaded the car. Hid purchases from Walmart. Got a text from the primary reminding me that Mia had a talk tomorrow. We’ve talked about it but it needs to be written down for her. Still have to work for a while and get 6 kids to bed and fix the lights on the tree. Totally exhausted."

I read that list after I wrote it down and thought, "No wonder I'm tired."

So yeah...that's kind of a peek into how December-until-Christmas felt. 

And you know what? I never fixed the lights. If you’ve been to my house at Christmas time, you know that I load my tree with lights…so, actually, when I moved some strands around, you really couldn’t see the small sections of a couple of strands that had gone out and I couldn’t bring myself to even dive into that project. Who gives?

So, the point is?

These lazy lazies are deliciously luxurious. 

At 12:30 yesterday, I was in my bed in my pajamas (gift from Becca), working. 

Isaiah was on the iPad next to my bed playing a game.

Benj was flying his lego Kylo Ren's Command Shuttle, one of the sets he got for Christmas (he is in love). 

The girls were quietly playing in their room with Christmas stuff. 

Sometime after 4:00, I changed out of my pajamas just long enough to go for a run in my new workout leggings Christa gave me for Christmas (love!). 

When I got home, I made taco soup and put my pajamas back on.
And I slipped my feet into these cozy slippers Becca knitted for me. (Love! They keep my feet so, so warm.)

We went downstairs with our food and watched 

"The Man from Snowy River." 

I haven't seen that movie in years, and I loved it again.

We read together afterward while the kids ate ice cream. At one point, I looked over and Benj had his rubber band gun in one hand, shooting at something far ahead in the distance, while galloping crazy fast and controlling the reins with his other hand (all at the front window, of course). 
("Man from Snowy River" must have brought it on.) 

(I love that he still goes away in his imagination like that.)

Today is shaping up to be similar.

Basically, if you need me in the next few days, I'll just be here.

In my pajamas.

(I'm not planning on changing.)

Rhyming

Claire and I got home from dropping the kids off to school on Thursday morning. 

We ate oatmeal together at the kitchen table, and then went outside to retrieve a couple of onions and some carrots from the garden that is almost over.

Came inside, chopped them up with celery, garlic, and red bell pepper, and then threw it all in the crockpot with split peas, water, spices, and chicken bouillon.

I made artisan bread dough and stuck it on the table to rise, and then cleaned up the kitchen.

Then Little Miss and I went into another room and began sorting clothes, a project I HATE.

Let me say this: hate is a strong word, but I am totally intentional here.

When I think of tasks I don't like, this ranks right up there.

When you have to pull down clothes, decide what you're keeping, what you're discarding, what's going to DI, and then clean out drawers to make room for the next size/season of clothes, get them washed, put them away, etc.?

Excuse my French, but it's a pain in the butt.

Flat. out. tedious.

(Ugh and eye roll.) 

What's a girl to do, though?

It had to be done.

So, there we were. I'm dumping out bags and sorting, Claire is oohing and ahhing over various articles and trying stuff on.

At one point she put on a shirt, and I think it might have been made out of wool.

(And here's where I insert that they've clearly been discussing rhyming in preschool and Claire is absolutely taking it to heart. I heard about it one day after I'd picked her up and we were driving home, and another time she ran into the laundry room to inform me that sandwich and witch rhyme. Indeed.

So, clearly, it's on the brain. Hers, that is.

She's trying words on for size.

And now, back to sorting.)

She puts on a shirt.

And I hear her say, kind of muttering to herself, completely oblivious to the expletive: 

"Well this shirt is
itchy bitchy."

And you know what?

I started to quietly laugh and didn't say a word.

And I'm still laughing.

Childhood is beautiful.

#ohmygoshiloveher

After School Dancing

You know how sometimes you have a moment that you think of and it just makes you happy?

This is one of mine.

Day 2 of school.

We're out on the back deck after school, eating these frozen juices from Costco (insert: so good!).

He was ebullient, and I was listening as he told me about everything that had happened that day. 

And I was playing one of his favorite songs (K'naan's Coca Cola Celebration's version of "Wavin' Flag") over and over.

This girl fell asleep on me,

and I watched him dance and dance in his happiness.

Pinecone Hearts

This morning was...

Braiding one daughter's hair into a crown braid

Throwing the other daughter's hair up in a top-knot bun

Making muffins because Claire wanted some

Watering the garden

Switching the laundry

Pulling out chicken for the crock pot

Running kids to play with cousins

Grabbing a few things at Costco

And now I'm finally plugging in to work for the afternoon.

Will stop at some point and throw chicken in the crockpot and wrap potatoes to throw in the oven. 

Gonna make gravy later, shred the chicken, make salad.

(Doing the home thing is my very favorite. It really is. I mourn the time when I was able to just be a mom full-time without having to work, too.

These simple tasks of tending, reading, talking, feeding, cleaning, and caring for my people are my very favorite things to do.

That being said, I feel so fortunate to work from home with a good job. 

And to work for good folks.

So lucky, and so grateful.)

On Sunday evening, we went to a couple of cemeteries, 

taking red geraniums to a few of our people.

We stopped at dad's grave first, and then at Huldah's, 

an ancestor of ours that crossed the plains.

As we made our way back across the cemetery, Isaiah wanted to make a pinecone heart like we'd seen by someone else's grave. 

So, as the sun's rays were stretching across the valley, we gathered pinecones and went back to dad's grave.

We arranged the pinecones into place there, and then gathered another bagful to take with us to my grandparents' grave at another cemetery up on the east side of Provo.

Isaiah arranged pinecones while Benji was shooting a gun (his hand). 

We sat in the grass at their grave and I told them about Vera's laugh and the way she shushes with her mouth at the end of it, and how I can still hear, right now, my grandfather chewing his tuna sandwich.

Random, right?

But I love these snippets of life we shared.

And as I look at us, it's beautiful and humbling to realize that we are the harvest of what came before -- and we wouldn't be without them.

Today, we hold them in---and love them with---

all of our pinecone hearts.