Mother’s Day.

I’ve never been a big fan.

Yesterday was the best Mother’s Day I’ve had.

I woke up earlier than I would have liked to, made breakfast for my family, and got children ready for church.

We got to church later than usual and there was a missionary speaking which meant that all of the benches up front were taken.  We had to sit in the back on the chairs which is so much harder and louder with kids.

For half of the meeting I had to handle all of the kids alone.

When we got home from church I let my husband take a nap for a few hours while I cleaned up the kitchen, made a cake and prepared for his family to come over for dinner.

Then we had several people over for dinner which I got to clean up after putting kids to bed late.

Sounds great right?

The thing is, it was.

I have been pondering lately the idea of making your own happiness, that your life is what you make it.  You can be happy no matter what your circumstances.  I’ve thought about it a lot but have struggled to implement the idea into my daily life.  It’s kind of bothered me too because my life isn’t that hard right now.  I have read stories of people who are going through really hard things and they are able to choose to be happy in spite of it all.  My life is what I’ve always wanted it to be but still I struggle to feel happy most of the time.

As I was stirring scrambled eggs first thing in the morning I thought about the fact that I was making my own breakfast on Mother’s Day.  No breakfast in bed for me even though my 6 year old had told me a few days earlier that I had to stay in bed late so that they could make me breakfast.  I continued to butter toast and stir the orange juice and I decided that it was okay to make my own breakfast and it was going to be a good day.

I chose to be happy.

And I was.

I knew that my husband was downstairs, preparing both a lesson for the 8 year old Primary class and a talk for sacrament meeting.   I was happy to be able to make breakfast so that he had the time he needed.

My husband also sat with us for the first half of Sacrament Meeting.  Instead of sitting on the stand the whole time and letting me have the kids the whole meeting by myself he stayed with us as long as he could.  I got to hear him give an excellent talk on his life and motherhood.  I got a new respect for his mother and the way she raised her family and the things she has endured.

When we got home from church I got to let him sleep.  He has been working so hard to put a sprinkler system and lawn in for us and in the process aggravated a shoulder injury.  The pain is worse than it’s been in years and I could tell that he wasn’t doing well.  I was glad that he had some time to rest.

I was able to have much more patience with my children.  I kept my cool when one of them yelled at me and was able to send him to his room without any emotion from me.  I was empathetic when the children were hurt either physically or emotionally.

I got to spend time with my in-laws and watch my children play with their cousins.  I got to see my sister-in-law enjoying her first Mother’s Day with her 3 month old little girl after struggling through them for years because of the emotions involved with the placement of her son for adoption when she was 16.

As we were going to bed my husband told me he was sorry that I had to do so much work on Mother’s Day.  I told him that I wasn’t because what better way to spend Mother’s Day than happily mothering.

We decided to celebrate President’s Day this year by going snowshoeing.  I learned and relearned a few things on this adventure.

First, I love that we live so close to the mountains.  The location of our house is really the reason we bought it.  We clocked our drive up and it was 14 miles from our house to where we started our hike.  It took about 15 minutes.

Second, it takes a lot longer than 15 minutes to get four kids ready to go snowshoeing.

Third, it is okay that it took us longer to get ready to go snowshoeing than we actually snowshoed.  Minor detail.  I had to remind myself that we do this kind of thing so that the kids will grow up to love the outdoors as much as we do and have some new experiences.

Fourth, K is too big for the kid carrier back pack.  I guess another pair of snowshoes is in order.

Fifth, the weight limit on snowshoes matters.  This was easy to figure out after the fifth time I sunk into the snow up to my thigh.  It really isn’t easy to get out of snow that deep when you are wearing snowshoes (especially when they get stuck on a buried tree) on your feet and a baby on your chest.

Sixth, snowshoeing can be quite the workout.

Seventh, E is going to be quite the outdoors man.  He is our hiker, fisher, snowshoer, rock climber, etc.  Every time we go on an outdoor adventure he jumps right in, rarely complains that he’s tired and enjoys it all.

Eighth, put the baby into the Moby Wrap after you get your snowshoes on or your husband will have to put the shoes on for you and you will feel like you’re pregnant again.

Finally, I’m pretty sure I’m crazy enough to do it all over again.

But not until next year.

This little beauty entered our family a few weeks ago and boy was I surprised.

I was about 98% sure we were having another boy.  There was no reason to think otherwise.  After 3 boys, that is just what we did, we had boys.  That is what I knew and expected.  This pregnancy wasn’t any different than the rest.  I wasn’t any sicker, I didn’t break out, etc.  So there was no reason for me to believe that the outcome would be any different than the rest of them.

According to the ancient Chinese conception calendar it was a boy.  Even my uncle’s wooden pigeon feather that he uses to tell the gender of rolling pigeons eggs said it was a boy.   Who am I to go against the voodoo pigeon feather?

Any of the old wives tales that I did all said it was a boy.  They were wrong.

I looked through a name book while I was pregnant.  I got all the way through the boy section.  When I tried to look at the girl names it just felt off.  I wasn’t interested so I stopped.  I think I made it through the B’s before I figured it was a waste of my time.

I planned on buying a boy outfit and a girl outfit and making a boy blanket and girl blanket to bring to the hospital so we would have something to bring the baby home in.  I went to Target and chose a girl outfit that I liked okay.  It wasn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen but it was fine.  And I was pretty sure I would be returning it anyway.  I couldn’t decide on a boy outfit.  I ended up coming home with two because neither was perfect and I just couldn’t decide between them.  I figured I’d return the one we didn’t use.  I returned them both.

I went to the fabric store to get some fabric for a girl blanket.   I ended up coming home with fabric for a boy blanket even though I already had some at home that I had planned to use.  Even though there is only about 3/4’s of a row of boy fabric and 3 rows of girl fabric I couldn’t find any girl fabric that I loved.  In the end I bought some outdoor/camping theme fabric that had pink and purple in it.  Not real feminine.

I made the boy blanket first.  I spend some time on it and quilted it with special stitches.  It turned out well and I was happy with it.  I barely finished the girl one.  I had decided not to finish it but when I didn’t have the baby on 12-12-12 like I wanted to I figured I had some more time to work on it and I might as well finish what I started.   At least then it would be ready to give to whomever I knew that had a girl next.

And then we were at the hospital.  Fourteen minutes after we got there she was born.  My midwife knew we didn’t know the gender and let my husband made the announcement.

It was a girl.

When I looked down to check for myself the umbilical cord was between her legs.  I wasn’t sure that there wasn’t a penis there.  I had to change her diaper later just to see for myself.

Over the next two days we were in the hospital, I caught myself thinking how weird it was when the nurses said “her” or “she” when referring to my baby.  I still find myself, weeks later, sometimes thinking “him” when thinking about her, especially in the middle of the night.

This baby girl will definitely change things around here.  We have pink in our house and will have to get some new toys.  I can no longer say “the boys” or “my boys” when I’m referring to my kids anymore.  And I am learning how to tie those little ribbon bows.  But I know that is how it is supposed to be.

One night shortly after we got home from the hospital I went into each of the kids rooms and watched them sleep.  While in one of their rooms I felt an overwhelming sense of peace.  This is our family.  I don’t know if that means that we won’t have any more kids but it doesn’t matter to me.  For the first time I am content with us just the way we are.

When I was pregnant with Big Boy, I was sure he was a girl.  At the time I had 6 nieces, 0 nephews and all of my friends that had kids had girls.  To me, babies were girls.  That was all I knew.  My husband and I had a bet on the gender going into the ultrasound which he won because obviously it was a boy.

When I was pregnant with Medium boy I hoped he was a boy.  It would be so much easier to have another boy and not have to buy anything.  We were moving halfway across the country while I was pregnant, living in a small apartment/large hotel room, and moving back a few weeks after he was born.  I didn’t want to have to worry about buying anything pink.  So I was glad when we learned he was a boy.

A few years later I was pregnant again.  Once again the ultrasound showed we were having a boy.  I admit that I cried a little that night.  I had it in my head that a perfect family would be 4 kids, 2 boys and 2 girls.  Then everyone had a brother and everyone had a sister.  That dream obviously wasn’t going to come to pass.

And now here I am, pregnant with number 4.  I had my ultrasound today and am thrilled that we didn’t find out the gender.  I didn’t want to and was afraid that I’d be able to tell whether I wanted to or not.  But the ultrasound tech did a good job of not showing us the bottom portion of the baby.

I’ve thought a lot about the gender this time.  I can honestly say that I don’t care what it is.  In the beginning I thought the reason why I didn’t want to find out the sex was because I would be sad again if it was a boy.  I feel like that is what other people think about us not finding out too.  But that isn’t the case.  I really have no opinion on which gender it is.  Obviously a girl would be fun and new.  It would be a change.  The main reason I want a girl though is for my boys to have a sister.  For them to be able to live with a girl and learn about them.

But a boy would just be so much easier.  Not only would we not have to buy a thing, but we wouldn’t have to learn anything new either.  No dance lessons or learning to do hair.  No dresses or tights.  No high pitched screams and trying to figure out bedrooms.

So this Christmas our family will get a big surprise and I’ll be happy no matter what the outcome is.

A few months ago we discovered that Big Boy can mow the lawn.  Ever since then it has been one of his jobs.  That’s a good thing right?  One less task on my never ending to do list.

The only problem is that I actually enjoy mowing the lawn.  It’s one of the few tasks on my list that I like doing.  Who are we kidding, it’s the only task on my list that I like doing.

There are many reasons why I like it so much.  First, I don’t remember ever mowing the lawn growing up.  I had brothers for that and if they weren’t around my dad did it.  The fact that it was never expected of me in my younger years sure enhances the appeal now.

Also, once you mow the lawn, it’s done.  For like a whole week.  You don’t even have to think about it again.  And if you happen to put it off or forget about it for two or three weeks, it doesn’t really matter.  Putting off laundry or sweeping the floor for that long doesn’t work out as well.

It is also loud.  It doesn’t matter if someone is crying or hollering “MOM…MOM…MOM” I can’t hear them.  And if you can’t hear them it’s the same as it not happening, right?  What you can’t hear won’t hurt you.  It might hurt them but it won’t hurt me.

Plus, mowing the lawn means I’m outside which is one of my favorite places to be.

Needless to say, giving up the lawn duty was a little tough for me.  Until I realized that it was also a job that Big Boy enjoys doing which means it’s easy to get him to do it.  No nagging or reminding that it needs to be done.

And whether I enjoy it or not, it’s still one less thing for me to do which I will always welcome.

I am not a fan of St. Patrick’s Day being on Saturday.  I guess it’s probably pretty convenient for most people but I don’t celebrate it the way most people do.  As a matter of fact, I didn’t celebrate it at all this year.

I like holidays.  I love having an excuse to do fun things for the kids.  It’s not usually anything big, just small, out of the ordinary things to celebrate a day.  They love it.

For some reason I didn’t do a thing to celebrate today.  No green milk, no shamrock decorations, no corned beef and cabbage, no nothing.  The big boys did wear a green shirt that had a clover on it because they still fit from last year.  Me, I didn’t wear any green all day.  When Big Boy tried to pinch me for it I pulled out the classic mother “Don’t you dare!” line and he didn’t dare.

Burger King even had free fries today with green ketchup.  I’m all about free things and I didn’t go.

Is there a Scrooge for St Patrick’s Day because I think I’m it.

My drivers license expired on my birthday last year so the week before, I went to the DMV to renew it.  My husbands license also expired so we both went on the last convenient day we could’ve done it.  We went through all of the paperwork and it was time for the eye test.  I looked into the test thing and couldn’t tell what the first letter was.  It was either a C, O or G but I couldn’t tell for the life of me.  I started to panic a little thinking that I couldn’t fail the eye exam.  I had to be able to drive and didn’t have time to get and eye exam and glasses before my license expired.  Then I heard my husband next to me say C, P, …  So I said exactly what he said.  Yes, I cheated on my drivers license eye exam.

After that I figured I should get my eyes checked.  I’d never had an eye exam before because I never felt like I had a problem.  I knew that my eyesight had gotten worse, things far away were blurry and I had a hard time making them out but I was still functioning.  Back in the beginning of January I had my eye exam and found out I had an astigmatism for which I got a prescription for glasses.  (My eyesight is still within the legal limit for driving so I didn’t feel too bad anymore about the cheating.)

Well, going to choose glasses wasn’t high on my list of priorities so I just recently filled the prescription and my glasses came today.  I was excited to see what a difference they would make.  I figured it wouldn’t be much since I’m still legal to drive.  Oh boy was I surprised.  I put them on and immediately felt like the world had been turned on in HD.  Everything was so much clearer.

You know when you get a new phone or something and there is that plastic protective cover on it?  Well, you can use it with it there but when you take it off it’s all the sudden so clear.  I feel like a protective cover has been taken off of my eyes.  It’s great.  I had planned on only wearing the glasses off and on for reading, driving at night, etc.  but now that I have them I don’t know if I can go back.  When I take them off now I can’t believe how blurry everything looks and I’ve only been wearing them for 2 hours.

It makes me wonder how long it’s been since I needed glasses.  How many years have I lived with blurry eyesight because I didn’t realize it and didn’t take the time to get my eyes checked.  If I had done such a simple thing I could’ve been seeing clearly all this time.

Which leads me to think of what else there is in my life that could be so much better with just a little attention?  What am I just living with because it’s what I’m used to but it could be so much better if I just worked on it a little?  What am I missing out on because I’m too caught up in day to day living? In what other ways can I start seeing?

 

 

Yesterday morning my husband and I laid in bed.  We laid there and listened to all that was happening around us.  Medium Boy got Baby Boy out of bed, took his pj’s off and started changing his diaper.  When he discovered it was poopy he asked me for help which I gladly offered.  After the bum was clean, Medium Boy wanted to put the new diaper on.  I helped him get it on tight, then he got Baby Boy dressed while I got back in bed.

Big Boy came into our room and climbed into our bed.  He lay there next to me, my arm around him, holding him close.  He will be 8 soon and I see him growing up every day.  I know that someday, sooner that I’d like, he won’t want to climb into bed with me anymore.  Won’t want to lay with me and tell me about his dreams and let me warm him up from the cold winter air.  So I just lay there holding him and listening to anything he’ll tell me.  Enjoying it as much as possible before it’s gone.

Medium Boy went into the kitchen and made breakfast for us all.  (Warmed up oatmeal left over from the day before.)  He was so proud of himself for all that he can do, knowing that he was helping out.  I wonder how long this will last, his wanting to help.  I hope it’s part of his personality but know that it could be a stage.  So I take it all in, let him do what he can for his little brother.  He is such a great brother, someday he will be a great dad.

After the little ones eat they’re back in my room, playing together on the floor.  Laughing, having fun.  With my arm still around Big Boy I look over at my husband and say “Look at what we’ve done.”

This is amazing, this life we’ve created.  The life God had given us.  To have these three boys we love so much.

Of course there are the bad times.  The times when the yelling, fighting, and pestering is too much for me to handle.  Times when I think “look what we’ve done” in a totally different way.

But those times are worth it if it means I get the joy of Sunday mornings laying in bed with my family happily around me.

I was recently able to spend some time at my parent’s house.  In the last 14 years or so I haven’t spent much time at their house.  They moved out of Utah right after I graduated from high school and we haven’t lived close since.  I have seen them often but they usually come to me.  When they’re at my house we tend to do things the way we do in our house as opposed to the way they would do it at their house.

Well, being at their house brought back many memories of growing up.  Things that I had totally forgotten about.  One night we were there my Mom made spaghetti for dinner.  Along with it she made garlic bread out of hot dog buns.  It totally brought me back to my youth.  Growing up in a family of 12, food never went to waste.  We often had hot dog or hamburger bun toast, etc.  Now I’m kicking myself for all of the moldy hot dog buns I’ve thrown away because I didn’t use them.

A few days ago I was at the grocery store and saw some granola bars on sale.  They were the kind that my mom always bought then hid in her closet.  I remember many times going into her closet and trying to find treats, either the Sunbelt granola bars or Little Debbie treats.  Sometimes we would even find Christmas or birthday presents that she had hidden in there and then forgotten about.  The granola bars came home with me.

I’ve also thought of how we used to answer the phone.  I always had to answer it “Hello, Smith residence, Heather speaking.”  When I got older it was just “Smith residence” but that is how we all answered.  I used to wonder why we had to do that.  Everyone else just said “hello” and were done with it.  Then it was weird when I went to college and just said “hello” when I answered the phone.   Now we are just a “hello” family, or even just “hi” if one of the boys answer.  I should probably teach them some phone manners.

It’s funny to me what we remember from our youth and what we don’t.  I love it when happy, fun memories come back to me.  It guess it’s worth forgetting them so that I can have the joy of remembering again.

What are some of your favorite memories from growing up?

Last week I brought all 3 boys to the dentist.  While there they were able to choose a new toothbrush.  I was there when one of the older boys picked one with Sally, from Cars, on it.  He put it in his bag, it was his.  I didn’t see what the other one chose.  I must of had to chase after their little brother (again) and didn’t notice what character went into the bag.

The older boys spent the weekend at their grandparents house.  When they are there they never to go bed on time.  It is something that I know will happen and I’m okay with it.  I figure it’s what happens when you’re at grandma’s house but that also means that when they come home they are TIRED.  Tonight was no exception.

When they were asked to brush their teeth, both of them insisted that the Sally toothbrush was his.  The other new toothbrush was a Mater one so obviously someone was wrong.  Since I knew who actually chose the Sally one, I knew who the liar was but he was already brushing his teeth with the fought over toothbrush.  This resulted in the other child crying hysterically for about 10 minutes.  I had to hug him tight and tell him to take deep breaths so that he would calm down.  When the crying stopped and the tears were wiped away, I told him that we could take the Mater one back in a few weeks, when we have to go back for some treatments, and see if we could exchange it for a Sally one.  His response?  “I realized that I already have a Sally one, I just don’t know where it is.  I want the Mater one.”