Why Me, Why Not?

Done.  Seriously – Done.
I feel like there have been a lot of times lately where it takes all that I have simply to continue on in my day.  To get out of bed, to brush my hair.  It takes everything – every ounce of energy to go thru the motions of motherhood – cooking, cleaning, laundry, taxi cab driver, etc. etc. etc.  It’s so much, it’s overwhelming.  It’s…well it just is.
A few posts back I mentioned that I’ve been doing some soul searching.  I’ve been so frustrated and down on myself, my family, my job…everything and anything that should bring me full pleasure and happiness has seemed only as a burden and nothing like the blessing or opportunity that it should be.
I almost walked away.
I’m being completely honest here.  There have been several times in these past few weeks that I stood at the door, keys in hand…wondering where to go.  If I did go – would all the responsibilities follow me?  If I came back, would things be different, or would it just be more of the same – just with extra laundry to do and messes to clean due to my absence?
There. Is. Just. So. Much.
I remember sitting in seminary in high school, our teacher was out for the day so there was a substitute.  He was a paraplegic (paralyzed from the neck down) and his head was held up with a halo brace.  He spoke to us that day about the day that changed his life forever…the car accident that took his mobility, and his little sister.  Why does this particular day stand out to me now?  It’s what he said…
“Why me?  Why not.”
This man had faced some extreme adversity in his life.  He had overcome so much.  He’d been through the battles, and he had the scars to prove it  - and yet…he was happy.  Genuinely happy.  I don’t think I ever recall ever seeing someone or meeting someone with so few worries or cares.
I. Need. To. Learn. From. Him.
It’s “Why Me, Why Not?” that got me to put down my keys that day.  It’s the one thing that kept me moving forward.  It’s the one phrase that gets me past any small trial (and I say small, because honestly – they are all so trivial in the grand eternal scheme of it all).
I have a choice to make.  I can see the trial, or I can find the blessings.  I can blame others for the workload, or I can learn something new from the opportunity.  I can dread the coming day or I can find excitement in the new and unknown.  I can look at the adversities and think of the difficult road that lies ahead and walk away – or I can face it head on and discover the many things that I am meant to learn from this experience.
What blessings might I miss out on if I don’t follow this path?  What lessons am I supposed to learn that I might not because I was too tired to take on the opportunity?  What new and exciting thing am I not going to learn or achieve or receive simply because I was feeling sorry for myself and had no desire to try something unknown?
I made the decision to pile these responsibilities on myself.  I chose the path.  I am the one who will ultimately decide how my living affects my life. Me.
Yes, there are things that I need to let go of.  There are some things that I need to let others do for me.  I get it, I can’t do it all.  There are some things that are completely out of my control.  There’s one thing, however I can control…my attitude.  I own it.  I control it.  I have the ultimate power over how it will effect me.  I will NOT let it pull me down or allow it to make me feel overwhelmed, stressed, full of pity or despair. 
This is my life.  This is MY time.  This is ME.
Why Me?  Why Not.  After all – this IS what I signed up for.

“Life is to be Enjoyed.  Not just Endured.” – President Gordon B Hinkley

Teach A Man To Fish…

“You can give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day.  Teach a man to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime.” – Confucius.

OK, so I don’t fish, BUT – I do cook.  One of the joys of motherhood is teaching my children to cook.
Annie is eleven now, so she’s wanting to learn more and more things such as using the oven.  Today’s cooking lesson?  Pizza.
First step – Kneading the dough.  I told her she had to be aggressive, like when you punch your pillow when you are mad at your sister.  Yes, of course I knew you did that.

Next up, tossing the dough ball.  This is almost as much fun as telling your brother there is a sticker on his back and then making him chase it.
(There’s video of the tossing on the video blog – here.)
 
Mmmmm… now the toppings.  She decided to make a Margharita pizza with mozzarella, parmesean, and basil.  Does my kid have a distinguished palate or what???

Into the oven…
Direct Quote - “It’s really hot in there Mom….”
Um, Yea….

The finished Product --
Yes, you do have to eat it kids – ESPECIALLY because Annie made it…

"No teaching is equal, more spiritually rewarding, or more exalting than that of a mother teaching her children."  - Boyd K. Packer

Faith In Motherhood

I found myself sitting in Sacrament meeting today – well less sitting and more wrestling with Jesse and Elizabeth while they tried to either poke each other’s eyes out or pull one another’s hair– wondering if there would ever be a time where I would be able to sit and listen to the talks, the music, even the prayers without having to whisper sharply to one of the children to stop biting each other or to sit and be reverent.
I remember thinking that I’d much rather be home, enjoying the moments that come with Saturday and Sunday mornings – time where the kids can be themselves, free of restrictions and reverence requirements.  Suddenly I felt a twinge of guilt.  I wanted to be home – not sitting in this Sacrament meeting – in fact, in this particular moment anywhere away from this pew, this moment – would have been bliss.
I felt similarly struck as I sat through Sunday School in the foyer with Alison on my lap crying that she doesn’t want to go to Nursery with the occasional “I DON'T WANT TO” at the top of her lungs for added emphasis.
I often wonder if it’s a crisis of faith, a lack of lessons learned in my youth, on some days I even wonder if my own testimony might be in question.  What kind of person am I that there are times that church is the last place I want to be?  I have spent countless hours and quiet moments (when they could be found) soul searching, in moments of quiet prayer, in scripture study.  I’ve determined one thing.  My faith, my testimony are very much in tact.  I know the Gospel is true.   I have a testimony in the power of prayer and in the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.  I know Joseph Smith is a prophet, and Thomas S. Monson is one today.  I have no doubts in the power of the Priesthood.  Why then these feelings?
I think I simply become overwhelmed.
Every Sunday I am reminded of these five precious (and precousious) children that I am responsible for.  I am responsible for their safety. I am responsible for their health.  I am responsible for their spiritual fulfillment.  Me.  How I teach them and the environment I give them is going to directly affect their future and their eternity.

"We shall prosper and build up Zion upon the earth; for this is our mission, and the work of your mothers and daughters of Zion—the mothers now, and by and by the daughters, who will, in turn, be mothers in Israel. Great responsibility rests upon you. Upon you depend the training and the direction of the thoughts and the inspiration of the hearts of your children, for they drink into the spirit of their mothers, and the influence of the mother over the children is the most enduring impression that can be made. There is nothing so imperishable as the influence of the mother; that is when she is good and has the spirit of the Gospel in her heart, and she has brought up her children in the way they should go." – Joseph F Smith

That is a lot to think about.
That is a lot to put on a woman.
That is a lot for me.
However:

“You women, be good women, be good mothers. Be kind and gracious and generous. Strengthen your children with your faith and your testimony. Lift them up. Help them to walk through the troubled ways of the world as they grow in this very difficult age. Support, sustain, uphold, and bless your husbands with your love and your encouragement; and the Lord will bless you.” – Gordon B Hinkley

The Lord Will Bless You.
He has, he does and he will continue to.
And that is what gets me through another day, another meeting, another week sitting in the foyer.

Jack Of All Trades, Master of None

Growing up, I had a dream.  I wanted to become a florist or a baker with my own shop.  I wanted to be surrounded by fragrant flowers and sweet pastries.  I wanted to go to Paris and Italy.  I wanted to travel.
After graduating from high school I moved to Utah, although I had gotten into BYU – I chose not to go.  I got married.  I started my family.  A year later, I was divorced with a one year old – and found myself wondering where my dreams had gone.
Two things I must clarify before you read any further.
1) I do not regret any of my life choices.
2) I firmly believe that dreams do not change, they evolve.
I went through a long period of time where I threw myself a pity party.  I was worried that the choices I had made had derailed my path to pastries and flowers and ultimate happiness.  But – every time I looked into my sweet Annie’s face, and knew that not only had my future not derailed, it had only just begun.
I look at my friends from high school, and how they are completely living the dream they had outlined for themselves.  I talk to complete strangers who find out I was married at 20, and now have five children – and no, I never did complete my college degree (not yet anyway).
Being a single mom for two years, I was forced to try new directions.  I tried working in different industries, I took odd jobs.  I learned many, many new things.  I found out I was good at technology, I had an eye for graphic design and I was also learning to cook more – with less.  The point is, I didn’t ignore anything simply because it didn’t fit in with my “plan”.
My husband and I married in 2001.  He finished his degree at BYU and I was able to stay home with our rapidly growing family.  I still nurtured thoughts of having my own business – but my children always came first.  They were my happiness, and that is all there is to it.
I do many things.  I try new things.  I don’t stick with any one thing long enough to master it (it seems) – except for one.  I am a mom.  I’m a mommy.  I am Momma.  If there is but one path I can follow in my life, I’m pretty satisfied with the one that has found me.
Some may still be asking “why?” – Why in this age of working and having it all do I still choose the seemingly “old fashioned” role of stay at home mom?
This is why.

Cops, and Coughs, and Kitchen Fires.

First, I’ve got to tell you, the following story is true.  Every word.  Despite any feeling to the contrary – this is a true account of the last two days.
I’ll start at the beginning – since that’s really when it all began sloping down hill.  Monday morning at 1 AM, I was awakened by the sound of my darling husband calmly explaining that our eldest daughter had become sick – and it was all over the carpet in the hallway upstairs.  (I’ll not go into details – as this event was already chronicled in a previous blog post here.)
After finally crawling into bed around 2 AM, we woke all the kids at 6:30 to get ready for school.  The rest of Monday was pretty uneventful – by normal standards anyway.  Elizabeth and Ali and I cleaned the house upstairs – sanitized the bathroom and carpets, and played a very rousing game of pickup sticks.  Then we went back to get the kids from school.
It wasn’t until after dinner that I really sat down to work on my computer and get some website development done for a client of mine.  I turned on the machine.  It sat.  It sat some more.  It showed the windows glowing orb thing, and then it crashed.
Crap.
Okay – so we try and restart it several more times to no avail.  In frustration, (and possibly out of complete insanity…I’m not sure) I decided to recondition my computer back to factory settings.  Three hours later – I was back up and running.  I got to bed around 1 AM.
3:30 – Jesse wakes up coughing.  You know the kind of cough that makes you think that your child is never again going to be able catch their breath?  The deep barky-seal with air gasps in between type of cough?  Ya, that would be the one.  I lept out of bed and ran to him.  An hour later, he’s soothed, but there’s no way he’s going to school in the morning.  (But MOOOOm….it’s SOLID COLOR day at school!  Gotta love spirit week…and he was going to wear his favorite orange shirt and shorts.)
No problem.  I promise fun activities at home. (be careful what you promise your kids…for you literary majors – this is what writers like to call foreshadowing…I like to call it a cruel joke.) That appeased him. He’s better now.
We drop off the kids…We get home.  I get to work finishing the client newsletter….10:45 -
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!
What the…was that what I think it was???
Ten minutes later – yep – Helicopters, police cars, fire trucks…you name the emergency response vehicle – it was here, on my street.  I call Ammon…I tell him I have no idea what’s going on, but there are all sorts of cops swarming the neighborhood.
Fabulous.
I smell smoke.
??????
It smells faintly like burning plastic and electrical – kind of like when a plastic spoon falls on the heating element in the dishwasher…
I look at the dishwasher – it’s in a rinse cycle – smell isn’t coming from there.
I turn around.
My food dehydrator has a faint wisp of smoke coming from it.
I grab the plug and unplug it.  So much for my lemon slices…Ammon will have to look at it when he gets home.  It’s probably something silly.  It’s a brand new dehydrator – maybe it’s just because it’s in it’s second use – and new things always give off a plastic-y smell when they are being used the first few times…
Back to my newsletter.
Two minutes later….
The entire kitchen is full of black smoke and every single smoke alarm in the house is going off.
I run into the kitchen.
The food dehydrator is IN FLAMES.  Five foot tall, licking-the-ceiling-type of flames.
I run over to the patio door, and throw it open, fling the curtains back (knocking them off of the rod and onto the kitchen floor) and run back to the dehydrator.  I then carry it outside --- fully engulfed in flames.  (yes, I realize this was not the smart way to move a burning appliance…I realize that NOW.)
I put the dehydrator down in the middle of the yard, and run in the house to get a cup of water.
The only thing I can find is Ali’s small water cup.  I fill it up with four ounces of water and run it out to the appliance fire…which has now attracted the attention of the helicopter in the area.
I’ve thrown open all the doors and windows, ushered the kids out to the front yard (out of the now completely-filled-with-smoke house) and continue back to the back yard again with another four ounces of water to put out the fire.
*insert sound of helicopter blades here*

“Return to your home.  Please lock your doors.  There is a suspect in the area and he is considered armed and dangerous”

?????
The police above my head are shouting orders through some sort of helicopter PA – and it’s telling me to return to my home…
I can’t!!  My KITCHEN IS ON FIRE!!!!
There is a guy cleaning the carpet next door, and he comes to see if he can help me.  I suppose he could see the smoke billowing out of the house, and could hear the fire alarms.  He probably also wondered why there were three little kids in their PJ’s on the front porch and a crazy lady running around with small cups of water…but that’s just speculation.
I finally get the fire put out.  I get the house aired out enough to allow the kids back in.  I leave all the windows open, but close and lock the doors.
Jesse looks at me – the smoke has really irritated his lungs again.  He starts coughing.  This time, he coughs so hard he loses the entire contents of his stomach.  At least this time, it wasn’t on the carpet.
No surprise that I had a major headache by the time Ammon finally got home – but still had work to complete for my client newsletter.  Ammon helps to get the kids to bed – and then leaves to go play volleyball…I wasn’t thrilled, I wanted him home to help calm me down…but by the time he finally left and kids were in bed, I had some time to think about the work I had to do.
Did I work?  No, not right away.  I sat in the middle of my family room floor and reflected on the day.  And then I laughed.  There’s no way that this actually happened.  I had to have dreamt it all.
Nope.
Here’s the news story from Fox 10 on the police activity – it was a homeowner who shot at four attempted burglars.  At the time of the police search it wasn’t clear if the burglars were armed or not – hence the intense search and attempt to keep people in their houses.

And – here’s the photographic evidence of the dehydrator.




BTW – when I asked for a refund on the machine, they said they had to talk to a manager.  They weren’t sure what the refund policy was on something like this…ummm…helllooooo- it caught on FIRE!  I think that almost ALWAYS constitutes REFUND…but that’s just me.