(A Little Too Honest) Confessions of a Bad Mom

I’ve been in a slump.  Like, a big one.  It seems that my life is on repeat on an annoying song that makes me want to pull my hair out and ogre-scream in frustration.

A few weeks ago Josh was watching Groundhog Day. You remember that one.  Bill Murray is living Groundhog Day every day.  The same song wakes him every morning.  The same people greet him, unaware of the repetition of his life.  No matter what, it’s the same thing.  Every. Day. 

I sat watching the movie, mouth agape, at the reflection of my own life.  Every day the same thing.  The alarm goes off.  The kids are woken.  We all get dressed.  The big kids make their lunches as I wrangle the little kids.  We load up in the van and I drop kids off at their respective schools.  I spend the remainder of the day trying to catch up on housework.  This is impossible as I have three little kids home during the day and they are all very capable of undoing any chore I complete.  Laundry folded?  Not anymore. The baby decided to use the folded laundry as a nest envied by every mouse on Earth when my back was turned because the 2-year-old was quiet so I checked on him really quickly only to discover he had tried to get his own snack and was sitting on the floor of the kitchen surrounded by full and empty fruit snack pouches that were once on a high shelf in the pantry in a plastic box with a locking lid.  Not to mention the 3-year-old who keeps squealing at the top of her lungs because her little brother took her spot on the couch, or her book, or her toy, or her turn on the TV, or her breathing space.

And then 3 o’clock hits and the four big kids get home from school wanting food, a nap, TV time, a ride to Scouts or youth activities or a ride home from track or drama club or tutoring.

Within two hours I need to have dinner ready because Josh works nights and if I don’t have food for him he won’t eat until 2am.  Or, sometimes, I have food for him but he ended up sleeping later and doesn’t have time to eat and leaves without the nowhere-near-gourmet dinner I’ve prepared. 

After that it’s the nightly fights of dishes, picking up the toys, getting ready for bed, why didn’t you do your homework earlier?, you need WHAT for school tomorrow?, and just the typical teenage angst/toddler meltdown depending on the age of the kids.  Either way, it’s basically the same thing.

I’m burned out.  I don’t do anything for myself.  And I know why I don’t.  If I take time to do something I want to do, I’m not doing something I should do.  Therefore, I’m not a good mother.  Therefore, I’m selfish.  Or unfit.  Or a bad wife.  Or a horrible housekeeper.  Or a terrible cook/meal planner. 

Who am I even trying to prove myself to?  My husband?  Yes.  My kids? Yes.  My neighbor? Yes.  The girls from church (my only non-virtual social network)?  Yes.  Myself?  No.

No, I’m not trying to prove anything to myself.  Because I already know that I’m a horrible housekeeper.  I already know that I don’t like cooking.  I already know that my kids watch WAY too much TV.  I already know that it takes me a week to finish folding and putting away laundry even if it only takes a day to wash it.

I am not the ideal candidate for being a Pinterest-crafting, housework-loving, creative-playing stay-at-home mom. 

Then why do I even try?

Hence, my depressing dilemma.

I’ve often heard that if you have a question you can ask the Lord and He’ll answer you.  I know that happens.  I’ve experienced it before.  But I decided to see if maybe I’d get lucky at church on Sunday and get some insight as to why my life is so...ugh.

It was Easter Sunday.  Our ward has a new meeting time of 2pm.  It’s still new enough that I haven’t quite figured out how to make it work.  Despite my loathing of scrubbing toilets, I do enjoy creating a good strategy.  A plan.  Lists of all kinds are my friends.  But I don’t have this new meeting time down yet. 

Josh got home from work and we had our Easter egg hunts before he went off to bed.  Then the kids ate candy and played with the new games the Easter Bunny brought while I made dinner: BBQ pulled pork, potato salad, macaroni salad, fruit salad, deviled eggs.  We’d had ham the previous Sunday when family had been in town so I went a different way for dinner.  Specifically, I needed something that we could come home from church at 5:10pm and it would all be magically ready for us to eat since Josh’s shift started at 6pm and he needed to leave by 5:45.  If I stay at church the entire three-hour block I can’t plan to cook anything quickly enough for him to eat before heading out for the night. And I still had to get kids bathed, dressed, combed, and find church shoes.  This needed to be done close enough to church time that they can’t mess themselves up but not so late that we miss the first hour of church.  And somewhere in there I really needed to try to get a shower myself.

To make a long story short, Sunday afternoons are stressful.

Then there’s the whole taking seven kids to church by myself fiasco.  The arguments over who sits by mom and who sat by me last week and who can fit on my lap so the bigger kids can sit next to me and fussy kids because it’s naptime during Sacrament Meeting and I forgot the snacks to keep the little ones quiet.

I tried to focus on the purpose of Sacrament Meeting – partaking of the Sacrament, renewing my baptismal covenants.  My thoughts were quickly distracted from this sacred ordinance as I tried to balance two kids on my lap and make sure they each only took one piece of bread, not a handful, and later that the water they spill from the little cup gets mostly on me and not the floor.  What is supposed to be a spiritual time of meditation and prayer is spent shushing and balancing and grabbing little hands reaching for more “snack.”  I can’t even begin to tell you how unworthy of the Sacrament I feel just admitting all of this.

But I looked forward to the talks about the Savior.  About His sacrifice for us and His gift of resurrection for every person.  And then the thought entered my mind: We’re told Jesus knows each of our sorrows, our griefs.  He experienced all pain in the Garden of Gethsemane.  And the nagging, arrogant, rebellious voice in my head had the audacity to argue that He never experienced my life.  He never knew the monotony of 21^st century routines. He never had little kids that bombarded His every move and kept Him from accomplishing any of His goals or desires.  Of course, I know His life was much more difficult.  He suffered beyond anything I can understand.  But, how does he understand me?

And that’s when it happened. 

I wanted to prove God and His ability to answer my questions.

Despite my pride and self-importance, He sent me a realization.

There had been a special musical number by a young girl on the harp (it was pretty amazing).  Usually there’s only one musical number per meeting, but for some reason there were two that day.  The second musical break was a congregational hymn, Where Can I Turn for Peace?  There were phrases that stuck out to me:

Where is my solace?

Where, when my aching grows…where can I run?

Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?

And then the third verse stunned me into silence and burned tears in my eyes.

He answers privately,

Reaches my reaching

In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.

“In my Gethsemane”?  MY Gethsemane?  My quiet corner of the world (or just my mind) where I suffer alone.  My attempts to give everything I have to everyone else and leave nothing for myself.  My quiet pleadings for solace but not knowing when they will ever be answered, if they even can be.

I realized, this was what I was experiencing.  Not a slump.  Not a monotonous routine to be endured.  My own Gethsemane where I felt alone, wounded, overwhelmed.  Suffering.

But as the hymn explains, I am not alone.  My Savoir and Friend is there with me.  I have a hard job right now.  My job description includes many things I am not good at or don’t enjoy doing.  My husband works hard to provide for us and is often either at work or asleep.  I do a lot on my own.  But I am never alone.  He guides me when I know I need to intercede in my teenager’s life.  He inspires me with individual responses to each of my children.  He reminds me of my goals and my ability to accomplish them in the past.  He prompts me with motivation to make our home livable and meals edible so it’s a delight (or at least not a dread) for Josh to come home to.

Of course, there’s no immediate solution to any of my troubles.  It took me three days to finally sit down to write this out because I felt it necessary to do other chores before the “frivolousness” of writing my feelings.  And there are toys strewn across the floor, the kitchen needs a good scrubbing, and towels need to be washed.  But there seems to be a bit more perspective now.  What’s important?  A clean house?  Yes.  Is it the most important? Well, sometimes it is.  Right now, though, I need to remember what I need.  And right now I need to recognize the good in my life.  My family.  My Savior.  Easter Sunday can be buried by the expectations of the obligatory Easter Bunny, or egg hunts, or rushing to church on time.  But really, it’s about the Savior and His Gethsemane for us.  For me.  In His Gethsemane he suffered for me.  In my Gethsemane he suffers with me. He does understand me.

 And He loves me anyway.

Saved

In line with the "Thankful" post the other day, I'm blogging another answer to my friend Jeri Dawn's blog game of "Getting to Know You." And I will heartily laugh if you began singing the song just now.

The latest question:

"What or who or when or how did someone save you?"

This is a huge question. And, for me, I cannot just answer it. I have to study the question, ponder it, mull it over in my mind, and then just scrap all that and write whatever may come to me. You know. How I usually write my blog posts.

Because of the different types of saving, I'm going to break it down.

Physical
I have been physically saved at least twice. Once was on the Arkansas River in Colorado. I went white water rafting with some friends from my ward, including my mom, our bishop and his family. While going down the river, the raft flipped. Here's the bad part. I can't swim. Here's the good part. I was wearing a life jacket. The river washed me away from the raft and another raft in our party had to come get me. I drank half the river that day. I also never went rafting again, much to Josh's disappointment.

The second time I was saved by Dr Richard Porreco when Matt was born. He saved my son when he was born, which literally tore up my insides. Dr Porreco found the unexpected bleeding, got my blood transfusion taken care of, and I was still able to have children afterward. If Matt had been born in the little town we lived in rather than Denver, either Matt or I may not be here.

Social
Like many others, junior high was a hard time for me. We moved to Utah and I hated it. I hated my parents. I hated the people. I hated the church. I hated school. I hated my siblings. I hated life. Several different groups of people helped me out of my funk. My parents stuck by me and never gave up or quit praying for me. My friends in my new ward reached out and welcomed me, even though it took me a year to accept that outreach. I wandered between a few groups of friends at school, never really feeling a part of any of them. It was a while before I allowed myself to truly feel a part of my friends' lives. I don't know that they ever really knew that I felt so lost for so long. But by ninth grade, I had a secure place with my friends and I still love each of them.

Love
Josh saved me. He saved me from worry, dread, heartache, loneliness, emptiness, and every other bad thing you can think of. I spent a lot of time moping around because I hadn't found him yet. He has tamed me (sort of) and I can't imagine the idea of happiness without thinking of him.

'Cause when I'm a bullet shot out of a gun

'Cause when I'm a firecracker comin' undone

Or when I'm a fugitive ready to run, all wild-eyed and crazy

No matter where my reckless soul takes me

Baby you save me

-Kenny Chesney, You Save Me

There are times when he's the only person that can calm me. Of course, he's also one of the things that shoots me off, but that's a whole other subject.

Emotionally

Just over a year ago, I prayed for a miracle. I prayed with all my being. I fell asleep praying, something I've never done before or since. My family was in jeopardy. Satan did his best to bind us in darkness. I have an inkling of what Joseph Smith experienced with his first prayer in the Sacred Grove. He had gone to pray, to ask the Lord which church he should join. But before he could begin his prayer, something happened to him:

...I had scarcely done so, when immediately I was seized upon by
some power which entirely overcame me, and had such an astonishing influence
over me as to bind my tongue so that I could not speak. Thick darkness
gathered around me, and it seemed to me for a time as if I were doomed to sudden
destruction. (Joseph Smith History 1:15)

I don't know that I can fully understand this feeling, but that night a year ago, I came close. I felt "doomed to sudden destruction." Joseph pleaded for help and was saved by the appearance of God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I was saved by the inspiration to utter in my own prayer, "We need a miracle. Please send us a miracle."

The next morning my miracle manifested through several different people in many different ways. We were saved. We were free. We found the strength to overcome our "thick darkness." I've been scarred by this event. It haunts my thoughts still. But we've overcome the earthly trials it caused. Our Heavenly Father saved us through His miracle. He continues to save me every day to overcome the memory of our near "sudden destruction."

Well. That was long and a bit deep. But I've been saved. Many times. In many ways.

A Lesson on Marriage

When I first went back to school in 2003, I decided to be a Secondary Education Major with an emphasis in Theatre. Sounds fun, but it was a lot of work. This major is actually equivalent to three separate majors: secondary education, theatre, and English. The reason for the English portion of the degree is because it's very difficult to find a theatre teaching position, so as an English teacher I could coach or direct drama as an after-school club, which is the way the school funds seem to be heading. I also had to take classes on teaching debate, something I'm not very good at and very much not interested in. Our teacher was actually the local high school debate teacher and he saw this more as a blow off class than the students did.

My debates were rarely researched, generally poorly argued, and overall abysmal. I don't like debating over any subject and I often found myself on one side of an argument with all my much-more-liberal classmates on the other side. I hated the class.

But there were a few times that I argued for something I truly felt inspired by. I argued for the Pro-Life side of abortion. I argued for respecting our Veterans. And I argued for the sanctity of marriage.

In the marriage debate, I became so impassioned for my cause that I forgot that my statements would most likely not be readily accepted. I shared the personal experience of the man who sealed Josh and me for Time and Eternity and his advice to us. He told us that if we always thought of, and acted on behalf of, the other person we'd never have to fall into selfishness and begin worrying about ourselves. In essence, if I do everything I can to care for, love, and provide for Josh and he does the same for me, I never have to worry about myself. I'm taken care of, Josh is taken care of and our bond grows even stronger. We become a stronger unit with Jesus Christ as our Center.

I finished my speech and I could see the look of disbelief in the eyes of every member of the class. The argument quickly became "How can you trust someone to always be there for you?"

I realized this topic was beyond their capabilities to understand. My love and faith in another person is greater than my own selfish limitations. But every one of them walked away from class that evening convinced that I had no clue.

But now, here it is years later and I'm seeing the effects that this advice has had on Josh and me. We still have years to experience this more, but what I've seen lately proves to me that I'm much happier when I devote my life to Josh than to myself.

My husband loves me. He treats me like a queen, and has since before we were married. He looks for ways to help me. He wants nothing but to make me laugh and be happy.

Two nights ago, Josh refused to watch a movie that my brother-in-law suggested. It's the Percy Jackson movie. I had told Josh when the movie first came out that I didn't want to see it because I don't want it to influence my own Greek gods story I'm writing. He was so loyal to me. It's probably really stupid for me to be like this, but he stuck by me and even stood up for me.

Then, last night, Josh ordered a gift for me. A few weeks ago I revealed to him a desire of mine. For quite some time now I've been wanting to learn how to play the acoustic guitar. So last night I discovered that Josh was getting me a guitar with lessons on DVD.

How can anything go wrong when I have such an incredible and loving man always watching out for me? He makes me whole. And I hope that someday those classmates and teacher of mine will be able to understand that I wasn't delusional. I was enlightened.

Sunday Lesson

Today at church we had an interesting lesson. Because it was the fifth Sunday, we had our final meeting combined, men and women. Generally, that final hour of church is spent with the women in Relief Society and the men in Priesthood lessons.

Our bishop had been inspired to speak about the issues the youth are facing today. He told us that two years ago our youth (young men and women ages 12 to 18), were a total number of 24. Now, after many more houses have been finished, they number 72, with 15 more kids turning 12-yrs-old throughout the coming year. That's a large group of youth. Anyway, the bishop invited two young women to speak the the mass of adults today to candidly and openly talk about the things they are exposed to everyday.

Within their high school, these two young women described being accosted by foul language, sexually explicit language, and others of their friends falling to the temptations of sexual activity, homosexuality, bragging about STDs, immodest clothing, non-enforced dress code rules, and other things that would scare any parent.

One thing I found very interesting was that these two juniors in high school both had to rack their brains and actually pray for inspiration as to what to share because they have done so well at blocking it all out. They have grown up with moral examples and have already discovered their self-worth, so they have not paid any attention to those things that would harm them physically, mentally or spiritually. They have surrounded themselves with people that hold their same values. They resist the call to be "of the world" around them.

I realized that I was very lucky growing up. I had good parents who taught me well. I knew I was a Daughter of God. I had friends that lifted me up and kept me on the right path. And some of them are reading this now. I love you and thank you for helping me keep my youth a much easier existence. I was nowhere near being perfect (there are plenty that can verify that!), but because of the good people around me and the testimony I had of the Gospel, I bypassed a lot of pain and sorrow.

Thank you for being my friends! You've helped me more than you'll ever know! :)

Reflections of Christ

The other day while perusing Facebook, I saw that a friend of mine had opted to become a fan of John Bytheway and I decided to do the same. John Bytheway is a member of our church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, commonly known as Mormons) and is a very inspirational speaker. He uses a lot of humor, but knows when to be serious. He asked what people thought of this slideshow.

My suggestion is to turn up the volume and tune out the world as you watch it. It's incredible. Somehow, it is possible to feel the love of our Savior by watching these images.

I watched it and the Holy Spirit reaffirmed my faith in my Savior. I love our Savior, Jesus Christ. I love everything that He did while ministering upon this earth. I love everything He does for me today. I know that without His love, I would be nothing.

One of my favorite parts of the slideshow is as John the Baptist is baptizing Jesus. The look of absolute elation on His face reminds me of the importance of the ordinance of baptism. Next Sunday, Easter Sunday, Emma will be of the age of accountability, meaning that she will be old enough to be able to understand right from wrong and be able to take responsibility for her own actions. Emma will be baptized Easter evening. It's amazing to me to think of my eldest child being old enough to pass through this step of life. It's scary and exciting to realize that she will be just as responsible for her actions as I am for my own. She's growing up. She's becoming a young woman.

I'm so excited for Emma to become an official member of the Church. She will also be given the Gift of the Holy Ghost--the ability to have the Holy Ghost as her constant companion. I know as a child I never fully comprehended the importance of that gift, but I understand so much better now. He keeps me close to my Heavenly Father. I know my Heavenly Father loves me and He has given me blessings beyond what I deserve. I have an eternal companion that I love with all of my heart. I have beautiful children. I have goodly parents. I've made it through times of my life that I never dreamed I was strong enough to overcome. And all of this because my Heavenly Father and Elder Brother, Jesus Christ, love me. I love the Gospel. I love that we have a prophet upon this earth today who leads us and guides us. We have the opportunity to hear from him this weekend as our church gathers, via television, radio and telecast, for our annual General Conference.

I bear my testimony to you, my friends and family, that I know that Jesus lives. He rose out of the tomb and continues His ministry, even today, by giving us the guidance we need through the Holy Ghost as well as our living prophet, Thomas S. Monson. The Book of Mormon is an additional testament to the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. It was translated by the hand of Joseph Smith who was lead by our Heavenly Father to restore the church of Christ on this earth. I'm forever grateful for my membership in the Church.