Deeper Dog Days

Last Pregnant Summer
Last Pregnant Summer
Last Pregnant Summer

I am bored to tears of my own broken records, but it's been rough.  My kids who have historically gotten along pretty well have become prone to teasing and bickering, and there are just no breaks for the tired pregnant lady.  So far this summer everyone's home all the time, minus two weeks of swimming lessons, which gave some structure, but not much that I could call "breaks."

I did break down and buy a $30 inflatable pool, which has been good for giving kids something to do, but has not done a thing to reduce the fighting.

I'm sure I'm not done evolving, but I am so much more able to let life roll like water off a duck's back than I would have been 5-10 years ago.

This morning the baby (who got pseudonynm-ed the Duke, but I call him Squishy in real life), pooped in the tub, and I just sang a song about how it's not an emergency if it doesn't require an ER visit while I cleaned it up.  It's extra work, it's exhausting, but there's no resources in me to turn it into drama.

Anemia and low blood pressure are back with a vengeance.  I get short of breath and dizzy just standing up.

So, in that state of "I can't think of anything more unpleasant than trying to find clothes that won't hurt to wear and spending my energy getting into them," I indulged in some long-term planning in my pajamas this morning.  It was a really rough, loosely shaped 7-8 year plan.  But I'm giddy about it.

Because if I can make it to the other, more human, side of a last pregnancy, I can go on being human and having ambitions and goals without ever being T-boned by a pregnancy again.  6 pregnancies have pretty well decimated the last 12 years of my life, as far as personal goals, dreams, and ambitions go.  I do not manage to have them, let alone foster them, while pregnant.  So, is that worth it?  Well, I wouldn't ever change anything to un-have any of my kids.  I absolutely would make different choices to re-prioritize my education and goals way back in the days of being a newlywed though.  If, for example, I had insisted on prioritizing my own goals as a newlywed, I could have completed a masters degree instead of working a soul-sucking desk job for 2.5 years.  That would have left me eligible to apply for a PhD program while Renn was in Dental school.  For most of that we would have had one 1 kid, which is hard, but consider that now I'm having to manage 6 kids if I go back for a doctorate.  Doesn't compare.

It was dumb, fear-based decision making that led to 4 of the roughest years of my life, holed up in a cave of an apartment trying desperately not to atrophy beyond recognition.  Treating myself as nearly less-than-human and waiting for things to happen to me in order to start living.  Top that off with the skeletal and shrinking support system we had as a family at that time, and it was just unnecessarily rough. I would never advocate for anyone to replicate my path.

But, hey - I can still control/influence the future.  So sometimes I explore options and their timelines instead of adequately supervising my zoo.  It gives me just enough buoyancy to feel a flicker of hope and resiliency.  22-ish weeks to go.

No excuses.

That was a long hiatus, wasn't it?  It's just as well I didn't make a detailed record of the last 6 weeks, because they have been pretty universally un-fun.  Thesis deadlines then comprehensive exams, then a couple of days then a Christmas I was unable to adequately prepare for..... complicated by more than one (unrelated) complete death of my one-and-only computer.  I am largely wallowing in emotional backlash that tastes the same as antepartum depression.  Too few happy thoughts  to penetrate the stress.



But hey!  Comps are over (other than defending them in February...) and Christmas is over (even if I resent how it turned out when I just couldn't do all the things I'm supposed to do for Christmas), so it's time to move on to new stresses.

Stress #1: I have a thesis to write, and while I am paying for my thesis advisor's time, there's really nobody who's going to keep me on schedule besides myself.  I have about 30 distinct insecurities that each bring me to tears when I try to figure out how to make this happen.

Stress #2: During an emotional high in August, I bought a ticket to Alt Summit.  Then deadlines and comps dissolved me into a puddle of introverted insecurity as well as rendering me totally unable to actually prepare for an over-the-top networking event.  I am terrified, and unprepared in most ways.  Plus, did I mention my computer problems?  It's hard to design a last-second business card for your thesis survey without any software. Plus, I'm not even sure if I can find the business cards for this blog...... haven't seen them since the move. ENTROPY.

Stress #3: Christmas Break.  All my kids home all the time.  I love my kids and I'm trying to enjoy their company.  But oh, the messes.  The energy, the hurt feelings, the drama, and the messes some more.   They make me tired, and sometimes make me want to hide in a closet to be alone for a few minutes.  They have all been sick and stir crazy and sugar glazed.

Stress #4: Money.  New homeownership (spending money on fun things like tree removal and a water softener) + a Christmas I wasn't very organized about + unexpected computer repairs + dentists don't get paid leave for holidays.   None fun.

None of these stresses feels quite as heavy or immediate as comps did, but half of the stress of comps was the way it was infringing on my ability to pull Christmas off.  I'm still emotionally recovering from the whole ordeal.

But, lest I leave you with that bullet train of whine, here are some silver linings.

Silver Lining #1: While our house has proven to be way too dark for me (and skylight windows keep getting bumped up my renovation priority list), the snow we've had since Christmas has done a lot to help brighten up all of our north-facing windows.  Plus my parents gave me a happy-light for Christmas.  (My life is so glamorous).

Silver Lining #2: While Bunny continues to be absolutely insane (so stinking strong willed and flat-out strong for a 2-year-old... let me show you the fat lip she gave me on Friday when she started flailing with a toy in her hand after I picked her up) she also says please and thank you without provocation.  It always thrills me when I get an unexpected "Thank you, Mom" out of her.

Silver Lining #3:  Sir O is as sneaky as the day is long, but he's also got an innate sense of paternal fairness, so when he sneaks a treat, he sneaks one for all of the siblings.

Silver Lining #4: Despite all the stress, illness, and lost sleep this month, I only missed my 6am M,W,F workout class twice. I am proving to myself that I can make a difficult lifestyle change and I'm holding my holiday calories at bay. I still hate doing it half of the time (especially when I'm sick and tired), but habits don't start sticking until you convince yourself they are not optional.  If you are me, anyway.)

Silver Lining #5: The list of house projects is mind bogglingly long, and the budget is hard to predict, as our income varies each month.  But we finished our basement storage room before Christmas and moved half of the bins and boxes living in our garage down there, so parking is less precarious.  Plus now we can move on to parts of the house that we actually intend to live in.

Silver Lining #6: Despite some really disappointing and emotional numb days, I've been pretty easily moved by the spirit this month.  It's been a humbling experience, but usually when I was most overwhelmed, I'd get subtle reminders of how small my stresses are in the grand scheme of things.  This didn't always keep me from being grumpy or withdrawn, but it helped.  Plus I cried a lot.

Silver Lining #7: Despite working on a thesis about blogging, I have not been able to string 10 minutes together to write anything coherent for my own blog.  I'd have lots of thoughts I wanted to write down during the day when my hands were full, or late at night when I was finally laying in bed and getting sleep was a high stakes game.  So here, look at me!  MAKING IT A PRIORITY!   Sometimes giving myself permission to prioritize things that don't matter to anyone but myself is really difficult. But this matters to me, and I think I am a much better person when more of my experiences have gone through the organizing filter of being interpreted and recorded in a searchable way. So while I can't currently edit photos (grrr to the computer problems again), I can write!

baby teeth

Because Sir O's response to the very idea of the tooth fairy was mortal fear, she doesn't visit at our house, at least so far.  So when he loses a tooth, the routine has become that he ceremoniously places it inside of a plastic-tooth-shaped locket inside of a pouch with his name on it, inside of a larger pouch in the top drawer of my dresser.

It does occur to me that some people think that hanging on to baby teeth is all kinds of gross.  But I'm overly sentimental as a mom.  Anything that is a part of those bodies that I miraculously built is sacred enough to me that I have a hard time discarding them casually.

I was thinking about that pouch in my dresser and how those teeth went from being a part of Sir O's lithe little body to being separate, inanimate objects.  They will decompose so slowly that if they aren't lost or discarded, they could still be around after Sir O's body is not.

I don't mean to think about death as often as I do.  I'm not obsessed with it, I don't think, but it plays into my worldview on an everyday level.  It has come up often in texts for school lately as well, so there's that.  But I would often think, as I lay ill-out-my-eyeballs in pregnancy, that the babies I have worked so hard to get into this world will all leave it someday.  It's not a mental space I would recommend a pregnant woman dwell in for long, but it's a good perspective to touch base with every day.

It's good, I think, to remember that we are passing through this world and our time in it is finite.  Our culture seems bent on pretending that we will all live (and be young) forever.  We are horrifically inept at grieving.  We think we are all supposed to be okay all the time, and never die.  It seems so silly to me.  Nobody is okay all the time.  Everyone dies.  Everyone who loses a loved one (or even loses a beloved expectation) needs to be allowed to grieve at their own pace.

Somehow knowing that in each of my closest relationships, one of us will have to grieve the loss of the other at some point.... it's a productive melancholy.  It can be, I suppose, a momentary downer to think that way.  But when I do, it evokes a tremendous tenderness in the way I move through my day.  It heightens my awareness that right now is not forever.  I will not be cleaning up these particular messes, folding this particular laundry, repeating these particular mommy-lectures for very long at all. Moment by moment my life is being spent.  My time with my children is being spent.

If I were to live to be 80, on the dot, I'd have 29,219 days to my life.  I've already spent over 11,300 of mine, so I likely have fewer than 17,900 left.  Potentially far fewer.  Remembering that makes me far less likely to squander my today.  I have today, 1 day.  It seems a larger, more valuable thing when I keep the end of my days in mind.

So - there's a meditation of sorts for myself and mothers like me who are maybe prone to feeling impatient, whose sleep-deprivation has led them to wishing full seasons of their life away, or who are caught up in the blinders of feeling that this moment's situation is an eternal thing.  Zoom way out, have a little freak-out about how fast your life is going to pass before your eyes, and then go hug your babies with an added measure of gratitude and patience.

Doggie Pile on me

This summer.  Oh, my.

I have never in my life been so consistently overwhelmed.  All my kids all the time with so very few experiences that could be categorized as "breaks."  Let's just say that at this moment 4 kids feels like a larger amount than it sounds like.  I need 3 of me even more than usual.  I could keep one of me more than busy just keeping tabs on the kids.  Another one could clean and clean and clean, (because kids are gross) and maybe cook, and the third one can think more than 10 minutes ahead and plan and record and think clearly and be gracious and funny and get enough sleep.

But despite the bulldozer aspect of the majority of my summer, there have been some shiny moments.



The boys all had a few days of heaven during our bi-annual family reunion in Hanna.  (Bunny however had a cold, so neither she nor I got any sleep and the two of us were grumpy the whole time).



I'm pretty sure I've aged 2 or 3 years this summer from sheer sleep deprivation.  My kids appear to be on a rotating schedule for illness and night terrors and bed-wetting.  It is always somebody's turn.  Last night the Captain came knocking at my door at 1 am, complaining that he was tired.  I do not joke, my sleep losses are not funny to me at this point.

Bunny has nearly exploded with teeth in the past few weeks.  She has also become fully mobile.  She's a cute, slobbery, wiggly mess and nothing is safe with her around.   Everybody who sees me in action says my hands are full, and it seems to become more true every passing day.



Somehow though, in the midst of sheer exhaustion, I can see how I would miss all this craziness some day.  There is a lot of vibrance in the mess.  There is always something to do.  There is something endearing about all this neediness from all these oblivious short people.  They are physically exhausting but they are also transparent.  The stakes are still low.  The drama is still over snacks and losing a game and not wanting to wear pants.  They will all still hold my hand and sit on my lap when they are pouty.  They will grow up, they will need less from me for their health and well-being.  The things they'll need from me will get infinitely more spindly to navigate.  It will get harder to tell how I'm doing and where I'm failing.  So this straightforward exhausting bit will look pretty sweet in retrospect.

Somehow I've just got to wrestle my way through the remaining two weeks of summer vacation.  Sir O starts back and then (gulp) I start back a couple of weeks later.  Things are destined to get more intense, and not less.  But there is hope that with the older boys in school on a regular basis I will occasionally find a moment to come to the surface for air before diving back in.  It's truly amazing what a difference realistic expectations make when one is attempting ambitious lunacy.  I can see how wild it's going to be and how intensely tightly I'll have to budget my time.  I can also see how relatively short of a time the whole endeavor will be.  I suppose it's a sign of some sort of old age when I find myself saying "I can do anything for only 2 years...."

Let me entertain you

You know what is magical?  Free babysitting.

It's also mystical and scarce. Trickier to come by than a leprechaun.  Says me.

So, I am not above recognizing this recent conglomeration of circumstances for the miracle that it has been.

Some neighborhood preteen girls decided that they love to dance so much that running a (free) dance camp for all the neighborhood short people was a good idea. (?!?!) For 2 hours a day for an entire week I got to drop off ALL of my boys for 2 hours and then pick them up happier and more tired-out than I'd left them.  It was awesome.



The cherry on top was the "recital" at the end of the week.  Just try to imagine the scope of this project and the end result is pretty impressive.  Way to choreograph, girls.


And coincidentally, watching our gentleman "dance" is one of my favorite small pleasures in life.  Luckily the kid busts out bouncing anytime he hears anything remotely musical.




This has definitely been one of my favorite tender mercies of the summer.

Fighting Words

Today was one of those painful parenting days.  The ones where each of your children seem determined to reject every effort you expend on their behalf.  Where everyone is grumpy.  Where your oldest child tell you he hates you and you can tell it's just to see how you'll react.  So you don't react but it still hurts your feelings, because no amount of maturity can make words that are intended to hurt not hurt at all.



And when your nearly 7-year-old says he hates you over something like being told to join the family for dinner, or being asked where his school reading book is, you begin to imagine the conflicts that could arise when someday you tell him he has a curfew.  Then you start wanting to hyperventilate and hide under your bed.

But instead you put on your stoic face, let him know you can see right through his bold attempts to flabbergast you, and refuse to reward him with drama.  You remind him that those are not nice things to say and that you hope he'd never say them to anyone else.  Because if he ever does that, you know you'll somehow be held accountable for it.

That's the part of parenting that I just don't get.  Our wacky Western society seems to want parents to have their children "under control" at all times.  Is this even possible?  Is it desirable?  Sometimes the worst part of being a parent is being accountable for the idiotic, cruel, and stupid things that my kids do.  I'm a generally benevolent person, and it's exasperating to feel the weight of my kids' dumb decisions.  As though if I were just a "good enough" parent my kids would behave like responsible adults.  Very few healthy, normally developing kids have ever behaved like responsible adults for more than 2 minutes at a time.  Some kids are out of control, and some kids are out of control because of poor parenting, but let's not have that be our default assumption.  World, knock it off and be nice to parents.

A few kind and supportive words go a long way, especially for a parent striving to demystify each of their kids.  I feel like each one of them is a Maniac McGee-grade knot that takes tremendous time and focus to unravel.  Dealing with dirty looks and smug bystanders while the knot itself throws insults at you is not a recipe for peak performance.

So, the takeaway?  Next time you see a struggling parent say something nice.  Or even supportive.  
And tell my kids to be nice to me. This gig has some thoroughly thankless days.

Submit - the overwrought button

Well then world, have you wondered where I've been?
Not really, eh?

Well a month ago Mr Renn had a day off work, and I indulged in taking Bunny on a girl's trip to BYU campus.  Women's Services was putting on a series of lectures and workshops about women and education.  Also, I'd been wanting to assess my options for going back to school.  I'd pretty well convinced myself I could handle 3 credits at a time, and I wondered if there was anyone anyplace willing to let me try.

Turns out there isn't, exactly.  But if I'm flexible enough to try 6 credits instead, then I was invited to apply for a Master's Program.  Only catch was that there was no time to contemplate the option.  If I was interested I had 3 weeks to apply.  (And another month or so to get the GRE taken.)  And so riding a wave of positive energy (and support from Mr Renn) I devoted every spare moment of those 3 weeks to getting that application ready.  Graduate school applications are not meant to be 1 month wonders.  I had to do major work to what I could recover from my undergraduate degree.  (Floppy disks = my worst nightmare)

But I did it.

I applied.



A lot of things could still go wrong, but for all intents and purposes I'm proceeding as though I'll be taking two night classes come Fall Semester.

Am I crazy?  Well, is this the first time I've made you wonder about that?  Everybody is their own kind of crazy, this is mine.

There is an indescribable lightness of being that comes when you are me and you've got some momentum to ride.  When you're actually doing something, and acting rather than being acted upon.

And never for a moment am I thinking this will be easy.  It will be ridiculously difficult.  I shall have to structure my time and productivity a lot better than I have in the past.  (Which is its own sort of hard wonderful)  I will certainly have a nervous breakdown or three.

But I'll be doing something that allows me to value my self, my talents, and my education.  To give myself permission to spend time cultivating them.  To interact with people who have patience for my infinite questions.  The results are bound to be good.  And if I can teach my watching children how to do difficult things, how to do terrifying things, and how to give themselves permission to try for the things their hearts long for, well then that'll be worth it right there.

In the meantime, my life is getting restructured and overhauled in a rather welcome way.  Having some external structure to base our everyday lives around is looking to be really good for us.  Once I take the GRE in May I'll need to be reviewing my 10 year old textbooks and re-learning writing and annotating styles.



Need.

Such a cool word, and it's nice to be able to use it about something that isn't one of my children.  Their needs still trump, but to have other "needs" to dance around.  It's kind of electric.

Maybe I am

I reserve the right to be a person who learns and grows at all times, and sometimes even changes her mind.

And I've been shocked lately to discover that I'm an angry feminist.  Maybe less angry than passionate, but the anger, it surfaces.



It surfaces whenever I hear women judging other women, denying the existence of a gender gap, or worse, blaming it on women.  (This happened!  Last week!) It surfaces when I hear women defending egregious representation of women in media.  It surfaces when I see boys and girls being steered away from their interests and passions because they aren't considered gender appropriate.  It surfaces when the Captain is afraid somebody might think he likes the color pink.  It surfaces whenever I dip my toe into the sick world of sexualized clothing made for little girls right now.  It surfaces whenever I get a complement on "looking great for having four kids." (All the time, and I'm not mad at the people who say it, I'm mad that culturally, the first thing we notice and complement about a woman is her figure)  It surfaces whenever I try to find a model of healthy body image for an aging woman.

Because I've started seeing it. And once your eyes are opened it's everywhere.  This message that women are their bodies, that they are property without their own identity, that educating them is nice and good, but not as important as educating boys.  That women only exist as they are perceived by the male gaze.  That a single woman can't be present in a narrative without falling in love with a man. (Start subjecting your movies to the Bechdel test and you'll just about lose your mind you'll get so mad)

I'm angry at the voices that say a woman's place is in the home, and I'm angry at the voices that say women who stay home are choosing something inferior.  To apply something so excruciatingly personal and individual and start throwing blanket "shoulds" around is just ridiculous, but it's everywhere. I find I'm a feminist because I believe women should support other women in doing whatever good thing they are striving to do.  In fact, I  believe human beings should support other human beings in doing whatever good thing they are trying to do.  The "judge first, love last" model is not welcome here.

I want none of it.  I am serious.  I can't tolerate this thinking poisoning my daughter or my sons.  I want children who see human beings as human beings.  Who meet everyone on their own terms, with respect for their passions and gifts.  Who can tolerate a different point of view, and who welcome the increase in understanding it can bring.  Who understand unconditional love (can fathom unconditional love) and strive to experience it.  Who can see limitless potential in every person they ever encounter, and who hope everyone reaches it, and helps them to reach for it.

And increasingly, I see giant neon signs affixed to all sorts of horrific messages trying to assimilate into the culture I live in.  And I can't keep my mouth shut.  There's too many women in the world already who believe there are too many things they can't do.  And if the many instances that I shoot off my mouth make no difference to anyone else, at least they will show my children that their mother believed that there was no externally enforceable limit to what they could accomplish and love.  And so, I expect, I shall get on a great many people's nerves.  I'm finally angry enough that I don't care.

On the Job training

I've been attempting to re-evaluate my expectations and definitions of my mother-of-three life of late.  This is part of fine-tuning my New Years resolutions, which are bound to be ready to share soon.



The biggest issue I'm coming up against is that all too often, I have a hard time getting over myself and really focusing the appropriate amount of energy on my kids.  I still spend too-much time and energy thinking about me.  About what I want for me.  And on really cranky days, thinking about what I want for me but cannot have.  It's not hard to see that this self-absorption is a fast-pass to a permanent state of cranky, listless discontent.  A place I know too well.



So, the task at hand is to get over myself.  And this is done.... how?  I'm figuring it out.  Here's what's helping:

1. Spend a few moments every day just soaking each child in and adoring them.  Just like a marriage, a mother-child relationship benefits from the power of intentional positive amorous brain time.  If I can remember how lucky I am and how tremendous these little people are, well then I'm half way there.  Even on their crankiest of days, I can still manage to step back and wonder at the scope of their souls.  These moments also help me to view their experiences and frustrations through their point of view.  And to remember that they aren't so quick to make expensive messes just because they want to make me feel all my efforts are futile. (That is my emotional response to their messes, and it's just out of line.)  It helps me remember that it's my job to be the mature one and that they still have a ways to go before they will be able to think outside of themselves the way I need to.  And it's my job to teach them how to do that - mostly through my example.

2. Take an occasional constructive mommy time-out.  A selfish "time-out" will only increase the self-pity.  I've been guilty of pulling time from my family in order to indulge in fantasies about how I wish my life were different.  Or worse, how I wish my life were more like someone else's.   Hello ornery and unmotivated version of myself!  If I really want to change something about my life I need to set a goal and create a realistic plan for change.  I also really need to remember how great my life is and can be.  So when I'm in danger of losing my cool and need to take a time out - the purpose of my time out needs to be recalibration, not gratification.   Instead of spending those moments focusing on what I don't have and can't do, I need to turn it around and remember what I do have, and commit to what I can and will do.

3. Respect your children.  Sure they are "just kids".  But truly, do you feel that different inside from when you were a kid?  You have more stress and more responsibilities.  You've learned a lot.  But are you not still the same person?  If you can back your lens way up, you realize that there's not such a difference between your kids learning how to be pleasant people and you learning how to be a parent.  You're both learning as you go.  Respect that your child's journey and experience is a real and immediate to them as yours is to you.  Their frustrations (which may seem trivial to you) are perfectly valid in their eyes.  Be as patient with them as you hope God can be with you.  I suspect He sees us all as little children with a terribly limited understanding, and is oh so patient with us.

4. Approach your least favorite tasks as a direct service for the people you love.  I cannot tell a lie, the super-repetitive parts of running a household can sometimes drive me batty.  The dishes?  The laundry?  The kitchen floor?  I sometimes get defeated by their never-ending-nature and my motivation to deal with them shrivels and flops.  They don't stay done and the sense of accomplishment I feel at completion is hardly proportionate to the fatigue I feel when the next dish or dirty sock surfaces 3 seconds later.  So how can I keep this fact-of-life from running me over?   It's an instance of not changing what you are doing, but changing why you are doing it.  When my housework turns into a gift I am giving to my kids and my husband, it becomes much easier to do it happily and well.  And so the drawers of clean and folded clothes, the reasonably straight kitchen, and the less-than-disgusting kitchen floor are all gifts to them.

5. Adjust your expectation paradigm for how you are thanked for your work. Relating to #4, it is not reasonable to expect your children to line up and give you angelic smiles and thank you for each task you complete on their behalf.  (If they do thank you for anything you do - that is purely frosting on top). If you want more verbal thanks, try giving more of it to your spouse.  The way your kids show their appreciation for your gifts is by using them.  Thinking this way helps to circumvent mountains of frustration.  I remember being told that being a mother is like being a Chef.  You send out a beautiful, delicious dish.  If the plate got sent back still looking beautiful and full of food you'd be sad!  Yet that's often what we expect our kids to do when we work to make our homes neat and attractive.  The way they are attracted to the toys or the rooms we just cleaned up is their way of appreciating our work.  We need to learn to view it as thanks.

6. Give yourself permission to take a little pride in doing things your certain way.  If I'm going to be a mother, homemaker, housekeeper, babysitter, etc.  I'm going to be a good one.  You cannot possibly do everything well as a mother, there are not enough breaks or enough prep-period for that.  But you can take a little pride in the things you can do well, especially the things you get at least nominal pleasure from doing.  I take pride in ironing everyone's dress-shirts, in setting the table for dinner each night, and in thoroughly lubing my boys in some super-beneficial lotion after a bath.  I know nobody else would do these things for my family as well as I do - and that most people wouldn't do them at all.  It's like my signature, and I'm very attached to it.

7. Search for opportunities to share things you love with your kids.  This can be one of the most fun aspects of parenting, but also a really hard one to prioritize.  Yet nothing makes you feel as accomplished  or cool as a parent as having a child that has been taught to appreciate something they can enjoy the rest of their life.  A certain music genre, a favorite movie, a beloved hobby?  Get your kids involved and enjoy it together.  In the process you will also enjoy each other more.

8. Take care of yourself in order to have the strength and energy to enjoy life and your family for years to come.  How many mothers forget to feed themselves in the course of they day?  What is the consequence of that?  I don't know about you, but at our house hungry people are usually pretty crabby.  It's not selfish to let your children cry or wait longer for what they want so that you can eat a balanced meal or go to the bathroom.  And making time in the day to exercise and feed yourself spiritually ultimately blesses your family with a mother who is balance and strong and has the energy and well-being to be present.  I have done much better at parts of this, and my biggest goals are to improve at the remaining parts.  I really believe in this, even if I also recognize how hard it is to make it happen.

9. Define what you are and are not responsible for.  Your kids' approval is never a reliable gauge of how you are doing.  Your goal as a parent cannot safely be to make them happy either.  Guess who decides whether they are happy?  They do.  It's important as a parent to clearly define what you can and can't control, and what is and is not your responsibility.  Make sure you are not owning their choices.  You don't own them, you are a steward over them.  Your job is not to control them or their choices, but to teach them and equip them to be able to make good choices.   It helps when your child is throwing a public tantrum to remember that you aren't the one exhibiting embarrassing behavior; they are.  Be embarrassed for them, not for you.  When you aren't trying to control things beyond your control, or feeling responsible for things you can't control, it's a lot easier to feel good about the work you do, and to focus your energy where it can do the most good.

10. Learn to recognize and act when you're being derailed.  But be patient with yourself.  You're learning too.  I am as prone as anyone to feeling like a failure at the end of the day.  I expect myself to do everything I know I should do, and I always fall short.  On the days I can give myself credit for improving without beating myself up for being imperfect and human, I find I can spend a lot less energy beating myself up and spend it instead on things that actually make a difference.  There's a lot of wasted energy in being a perfectionist.  When I sense I am getting frustrated and getting all wound up inside, I try to remind myself that I should do something productive with that energy instead.  I try to quickly think about a few things I do have and a few things I can do, to get myself in a better frame of mind.  And then I try to remember what a waste of energy frustration can be.  You can only be frustrated if you have unmet expectations, and the less fair and realistic your expectations are, the more energy you will waste being frustrated.  If your expectations aren't met, try to give them up, even if they were reasonable.   Holding on to them won't make them happen, especially if they involve other people's agency.

So dear readers, what would you add to my list?  What keeps you levelheaded and purposeful when you start to slip into a rut?  Do share, because I still have a long way to go!

promises, promises

My self-imposed parenting rule is that I will not make promises that I don't fully intend to keep.  I'm doing pretty good at this when it comes to punishment-type promises.  Reward-type promises are proving more elusive.



Sir O has begged on multiple occasions to go visit his "chickies" that live only 3 houses down the road.  For 2 months he has begged and only today did I make it happen.  We won't delve into the parenting guilt involved with that.  The chicks are doing splendidly, and are easy to spot.  Now that all their feathers are in, they are the only white ones in the entire bunch.  They're not entirely grown up, but they are a far cry from fluffy yellow baby chicks.  Once they are large enough to keep from being bullied by the old lady chicks, they'll be completely free range and have almost half an acre to themselves.





While we were there we also got to visit the horses, pregnant sheep, and some newborn cows.  My boys both bonded something fierce with the resident border collie, and we were invited all the way back to the flower garden where the irises and peonies were popping in full force.  My kids were insane, but there was room for them to be insane, and I was yet again convinced that my boys need to spend about a million times more of their hours out of doors. (Which means, yes, more parenting guilt).







While Mr Renn shows no signs of ever considering keeping animals (I'm waiting until our Captain is old enough to beg with persuasive arguments for a puppy.  Between his utter delight in the company of animals and his own puppy dog eyes he's sure to be the one to win Renn over) we have a mutual desire to live on enough land to at least nominally attempt homesteading.  Outings like today's remind us both how much we'd like that.  We shall see.

A happy sadness

Today/Tomorrow (Friday) we are headed south to celebrate an "angel-versary".  It's been 1 year since baby Jonas was delivered as a still-birth, and it seems like an important time to help his family develop some peace-filled traditions.



When I spoke with his mom back in March she told us that when she was initially grieving the loss of getting acquainted with Jonas' personality in this life, she received a distinct impression that Jonas loves chocolate and baseball.  So guess what I'm bringing to the party?  These are Rose Levy Beranbaum's Designer Chocolate Baby Grands covered in almond bark.  Because chocolate ganache and glaze, while decadent, cannot be made to look like a baseball.  And that was important here.
If anyone else out there is looking for ways to be supportive of friends and loved ones who are enduring such a loss, this is a great resource.  For our gathering we'll be releasing balloons with letters to Jonas, and painting his name on rocks and anything else that falls in our wake.  Also, everyone present gets to blow out a birthday candle.  Hopefully this is the start of something good, if sad.

Guess What?

We're moving back to Utah!

Renn matched with the U.

Still trying to wrap our brains around all the implications.

There is so much to do!

But we are SO HAPPY. Not only do we not have to come up with a plan B, but we get to hang out with our families again. (Which for us is a good thing!)

Now on to Boards part II, and completing graduation requirements. Mr Renn has a full plate.

Resolute

I have been slowly bending my mind around what I want out of my life this year.
Motherhood is an exercise in not getting what you want, so this is a tricky direction for my mind to move in.
Oh, my tired and disjointed mind!



I have to be simple and vague in some respects, because the content and direction of life after mid-May is still very much a mystery to us.

Speaking of which, I'm sure everybody's prayers are quite crowded just now, but if you could spare a moment to pray that we match with a residency come the end of this month..... we'd appreciate it!

So, while not in order of importance, I hope the order of importance is not too hard to figure out.

1. Celebrate something every day.

Celebrating is so easy, and I want it to be a way of life for our family. It can just be using the "good" stuff instead of the "everyday" stuff. I'm not a big fan of saving things for "someday" when you can be enjoying them often.

2. Take better care of my body.

First and foremost is sleeping more. Followed closely by drinking more water. I shall be surprised if I get further than that in a year.

3. Improve the structure of our days.

The boys deserve to have a rigid enough routine that they are comfortable with what comes next. I need to be the one in charge more often.

4. Purge and pack and move.

This is huge and makes me hyperventilate sometimes.

5. Improve my character to better fit with this definition:

Character is revealed, for example, in the power to discern the suffering of other people when we ourselves are suffering; in the ability to detect the hunger of others when we are hungry; and in the power to reach out and extend compassion for the spiritual agony of others when we are in the midst of our own spiritual distress. Thus, character is demonstrated by looking and reaching outward when the natural and instinctive response is to be self-absorbed and turn inward. If such a capacity is indeed the ultimate criterion of moral character, then the Savior of the world is the perfect example of such a consistent and charitable character.

6. Cuddle with and kiss all 3 of my boys more.

my squee

image by pgjennielove

I'm so excited I can hardly stand it.
And nervous.
After a tremendous amount of hemming and hawing and mulling over and vacillating between being excited and feeling way too insecure..... I am going back to school.

Sort of.

I'm officially registered for all the core courses to complete a Certificate of Merit in Floral Design.
Which is a very different direction from my previous formal education.
But oh my goodness how good it feels in my soul to think about the tactile experiences that await me!
Although I'm nervous about memorizing scads of flower types. I haven't used that part of my brain in a long long time.

I'm so happy that there are people who love me enough to facilitate such an awesome opportunity. I threw the idea out into the world of things-said-out-loud with very little hope for actualization. It's my own mini-miracle. Even class times have mysteriously changed to work better with our schedule so we won't need as much babysitting.

Come June the flowers may take over my blog.

Happy Thoughts you may not have thought of

Today our whole family is sort of in a funk. Sir O has discovered he is strong enough to open the refrigerator door and it's causing some issues.

Methinks we'll be forking over money for a baby-proofing appliance lock tomorrow. We'll see if Mr Renn's frugality allows it.

In an attempt to end the day on a happier note, I thought I'd think of some happiness.

• I love Richard Burton's voice. (Mr Renn and I have been watching Becket) I could listen to him talk all day long. {It's funny to say that in the present tense since he died when I was younger than Sir O is now.} His talent was definitely for stylized stage acting rather than film acting, but I'm happy he did so many films since otherwise I'd never get to listen to him talk. The wikipedia article quotes someone saying "His voice has gem-cutting precision." Spot on. Funny how the most talented people are often the most unhappy though. Sad life, his. Makes me grateful for my mediocrity.
• Sir O has taken to singing to himself while riding in the car. It's adorable.
• The Belly Monster's head has dropped and lodged itself between my hips. Already. It has now been determined that he will join us by January 6th.
  
• Today I wrapped all existing Christmas Presents, mostly because I have no place to keep them hidden in our squishy apartment.
• I've just enlisted your help to try to find drinking chocolate (not cocoa) for less than a dollar an ounce. Call it a pregnancy craving, and another validation of my mother accusing me of having expensive taste. (Which she's been doing for at least 20 years)
  
• Mr Renn is taking himself to an Eagles game (on Thanksgiving Day) for his Christmas present. (Somebody got him & his cronies a screaming deal) On the bright side I don't have to come up with a gift for him. On the less bright side, this gift has nothing to do with me, and it'll be awfully anti-climactic come Christmas morning, don't you think?
• Sir O excitedly watched the snow fall (while standing on and rocking the rocking chair by the window) for 20 minutes this morning. His attention span is definitely lengthening.
• I get to see my cousin and his family in 1 week (right guys?)
• I'm making whipped sweet potatoes again this Thanksgiving, and they are dang good.
• My brother (formerly...) is laying hardwood floors at my parents' house. From what I've been able to see of them he's doing a beautiful job and I'm so proud of him. (in progress photo)
• I love these mini journals... I might have to make myself some.
• My parents are trying to rig a webcam at my 20yr brother's wedding reception this December so that I can "be there". I think it's hilarious and sweet, and could be lots of fun.
• I really can't carry Oliver up the stairs to the apartment any more (especially if I'm carrying groceries or the like), and I need to think of something to bribe him up the stairs with other than candy. Ideas? (See I don't carry him because he wants to be held or can't get up them himself... it's because I don't want to spend 30 minutes coaxing him up step by step....)
• Mr Renn is singing in the choir for the interfaith performance of The Messiah that our church is putting on in a few weeks. (My lungs are too squished this year). It's lots of fun to have regular home-rehearsals, sing-a-long style.
• I'm going to bed. I'm going to sleep in tomorrow morning, and I'm not going to feel guilty about it.
• Ciao.

Un profundities

Slogging along here.
That's the downside of being on-task and productive.
Nothing very interesting happens, and your brain gets consumed with "the list", instead of thinking interesting, bloggable thoughts. (But I have managed 20-30 minutes of yoga 3 times in the last week!)
My apartment is as sustainably clean as it's ever been (except the hopeless computer desk). And as boring as it sounds I do feel good about it.
Good, but fragmented.

• I haven't gotten any good mail all week. Not even catalogues. Thank heavens for blogland.
  
• Williams Sonoma has their mulling spice mix in; every year I'm so tempted. But it definitely falls under "want" instead of "need." And I never actually buy it.
• Our plans for (sparse-ish) Christmas gifts are complete, now I just have a lot of homemade work to do.
• Mr Renn's dad (who has a frustrating habit of nearly always being right) forwarded this thoughtful (if slightly angry) article to us. The statistics blew me away.
• Mr Renn also informed me that the City of Philadelphia has so few tax-paying residents (welfare capital of the nation, remember), that the city has had to close libraries, recreation centers, and start selling fire equiptment to make ends meet. Wow. Sad. Especially considering the sheer volume of people drinking on their front porch that Mr Renn drives by every morning, who are still there (and still drinking) when he drives home.
• Nie is awake, which makes me happy. But she's got so many things to wrap her brain around that it's a melancholy kind of happy.
  
• I'm grappling with what is probably a pride issue. I like giving good gifts. I like the idea of people seeing that they have a gift from me and automatically being excited because it's bound to be good. I'm learning that such good gifts require an abundance of one of three things: Money, Energy, or Time. Guess what I haven't had in abundance for almost two-and-a-half years? Hence the bar seems to be continually lowered, and it makes me sad.
• The belly monster is as active as his brother was in utero, if not moreso. While we are having no luck "preparing" Sir O for a baby brother, I still suspect these two are going to be great friends. I also suspect my innards of being slightly bruised.
• Due to the craziness anticipated in having a baby due so shortly after Christmas, I'm planning to get everything done early this year. Making Christmas baking lists makes me happy. But don't worry, I won't start before Thanksgiving.
• The exception to the above is that we're skipping Christmas Cards this year. Or rather, we are combining Christmas Cards, Baby Announcements, and Valentine Cards all into one mailing. You can totally understand why, right? If you want to make sure you're on the mailing list, let me know.
  
• It's been so depressingly dark and gloomy lately that I'm filled with dread, remembering how much I dislike Winter in PA. I've already started leaving lights on all over the house because it makes me sad to turn them off. This drives Mr Renn crazy.
• Coat weather has arrived (at least temporarily). I hear people in Utah complaining about how it's snowing already, and I want to holler at them. At least Utah snow has the saving grace of being pretty after it has fallen. I rather miss the dry, fluffy, pretty stuff. Here we just get buckets of muddy slush that freeze into solid ice on the ground. Haven't gotten it yet, but when we do it won't be pretty.
• I miss living where we knew of a million things to do and see around the Holidays. There's plenty to do here, but I miss the familiarity of doing things that had already become a tradition. Forging new traditions in a new place, far from family, can be daunting.
  
• I'm beginning to ramble, plus I'm angering the anti-Christmas-thoughts-in-November folks. So I'll curb myself. Ciao.
  

30 Weeks: ginormous + grateful = ginormously grateful

The expansion of my middle region marches on.
This is a good thing.
It is also remarkably uncomfortable. But it doesn't involve much puking, so I am not terribly inclined to complain. Although it is a quandary how to respond to the ever-asked "how are you feeling?". Um, pregnant?


Other than a few little things I seem to handle late pregnancy quite well. Running out of breath constantly, struggling with getting up and down, braxton hicks contractions, and less-than-stellar-sleep are pretty much part of the package deal for anyone's pregnancy. Nobody loves them, but they don't render your entire being useless and miserable like nausea does.

I guess it's the perspective that makes all the difference.


Isn't that always the case?


I've had a decent dose of perspective lately, and Sundays are always marvelous for calibrating perspective, and it's November to boot. AND I've decided that perspective and gratitude are two sides of the same coin.


So I'm going to wax grateful. I know, everybody's doing it. So what? Can you think of a more awesome fad?

I have decided that I'm incredibly lucky that Mr Renn loves what he does. He still comes home and is excited to tell me about his day and what he's learned and been able to do. He still thinks dentistry is cool, and after all the hours and dollars that are going into this dental school gig, that makes it all worth it.

I have decided that I love Sir O's rambunctious nature. I love it all the more because he has to try so hard to be a good boy. And he does try. I love him for trying, and I love him for failing sometimes.


I love it that Sir O and the belly monster have such a great dad and male role model. I really believe it makes such a difference for a boy to learn what a man is and does and should be from someone who is actually doing their best. I love it that Mr Renn is teaching our boy(s) that real men give their boys hugs and kisses and say "I love you" a lot. (And also that real men make their wives breakfast in bed, do the dishes, sing in choirs, and write thank-you notes). Very manly, don't you think?


Mr Renn and I spent our Sunday afternoon reading an article in Seeing the Everyday Magazine. (Which I have decided is practically perfect in every way. If you're looking for Christmas gift ideas for a thoughtful parent-type person, look no further - Design Mom raved about it here and here). The article was about family work - how imperative work within the home is for building family relationships and character. Then I remembered an article on family work from this book, (from a class I took at BYU) and we started reading that too.

As much as I know that no amount of planning and setting goals can prepare you for what life brings, I still feel like it's important. And I like it that Mr Renn and I are able to discuss details of how we want our family to function, knowing we will fall short of our ideals. It fills me with faith instead of fear.

It also gives me the strength to pop a squat on the floor and play trains one more time. And that's saying something.

Sweeeeet

I assume everybody already heard the awesome news.
Surreal moment listening to conference this morning.
Mr. Renn says "Philadelphia"(half-joking), then the Prophet says "Philadelphia"(not-joking).

So um, how long does it take to build a temple anyway?

spring fever

I don't have one iota of outside dirt to call my own,
but I just ordered about 20 free seed catalogues,
courtesy of the handy gardenlist.com


Fun daydreams ahead.

(photo from cottageliving.com)

Happy Easter from Us

Hope your Easters were all wonderful, full of the best stuff.

Love, Us