Vulnerable Motherhood

Motherhood is not a hobby, it is a calling. You do not collect children because you find them cuter than stamps. It is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for.

I first heard this passage two years ago when Elder Neil L. Anderson quoted it in General Conference. However, recently I came across the original blog it was posted on and thoroughly enjoyed reading the whole post.  A part that stood out to me was the very next passage after the above quote.  The author writes:

Christian mothers carry their children in hostile territory. When you are in public with them, you are standing with, and defending, the objects of cultural dislike. You are publicly testifying that you value what God values, and that you refuse to value what the world values.

This really put into words some of my feelings that I have struggled to identify.  I've noticed that I feel particularly vulnerable in public when I am pregnant.  And during my current pregnancy we purposely put off telling Jeremy's PhD adviser we were expecting until about a month ago.

Within the walls of our own home we are so happy.  Sometimes when I am watching my boys play together, or listen to them talking to me, I just want to burst because of how much I love them, and how amazingly wonderful they are, and how blessed I feel that Heavenly Father has sent them to me.  And we are so, so, so excited for this new little one to join us.  It's been amazing to observe how each of our boys is different, and what they bring to our little family.  We can't wait to see what this new spirit will bring with him.

But outside the walls of our home we become "visible"--open to others' interpretation without our input.  We recognize that our children (and my pregnant state) are a statement of our values, and that other people may not value the same thing.  I  feel unstated accusations that if we'd just stop having kids, then Jeremy could be graduated by now, we could have a "real" job by now, or any number of material possessions by now.  And I take a lot of the supposed blame on myself, because I'm the one who's pregnant, and a lot of society looks down on a pregnant woman.  Like maybe I'm uneducated or unmotivated, or simply incapable of "greater" things.  And to go out with my children, particularly when they aren't being well-behaved, I feel the eyes of a million strangers saying, we told you so, what were you thinking, and why have you done it again?!

A few months ago, Jeremy sent me out of the house for a little "me" time.  I got a pedicure, and while chit chatting with the gal doing my pedicure, I let her believe I was pregnant with my third child.  I never said as much, but in the few other things we talked about we didn't make it to each of my kids.  And the truth is, I didn't want the "Wow!" or the "You're brave!" or the "I could never do that!" or whatever "polite" response she might try to offer, not to mention any impolite ones. 

But maybe it's time to change my ways.  I know how I feel in my heart and I probably need to work harder to not let others' unknown opinions make me feel any less secure.   I need to realize how important it is that I do; because in doing so I am "defending the objects of cultural dislike" and "publicly testifying that I value what God values".  In that context, it hurts to think that if I am insecure about my motherhood in front of others, then I am leaving my children undefended.  That's the last thing I would want to do.

As I make my final preparations to bring my fourth son into the world, I want to become a better mother than I have been in the past.  Particularly, I want to keep my head held high when I leave the sanctity and security of my home.  Because we love our boys, and the reason we "keep having kids" is because we want to, we choose to, we love them and we love our life with them, and also, we believe God has commanded us to bear children.  So, I will defend my values to the world--I will defend my children.  Even on their very worst days. 

Little Boy Bapron

The first time I saw the bapron I knew I had to make one. Very cute Japanese design. A full-coverage bib. Not velcro-attached, because my kids just rip off the velcro. My resolve was ignited again recently when we visited Jeremy's sister and she had a couple really cute ones my mother-in-law had made her.

On the eve of my baby's second birthday I was feeling disheartened that a different (larger) project I had wanted to make for him wasn't happening.  So I pulled up this pattern for a quick and satisfying project for a homemade birthday present. 

 I altered the pattern--making it "the bapron-XL" for my not-so baby-like baby.

And of course I made it fit for a boy, with a cute (Debbie Mumm--I think) barnyard print.  I recycled an old coordinating receiving blanket for the flannel back.  (Let's hope we need pink blankets for the next baby.)  I mostly love how it turned out--my alteration worked out pretty well, though I do have some ideas for altering the design of the pattern a bit more. . . add that to the project list!

The "Nuddle"

 Jonas was just barely 2 when Wyatt was born.  It was a bit difficult for him.  He was still a baby.

So we had to work together, to compromise when it came to mama's lap.  What we came up with I began to affectionately call the "Nuddle."

 That's "nurse" and "cuddle" in one.  We'd often get set up in our nuddle after coming back from being out running errands or something.  It would be time for the baby to nurse and Jonas would be cranky because it was nap time.

But if we could just get ourselves arranged  in a nuddle then it would be perfect for all involved.  Baby would nurse, Jonas would sleep, and Mom would breathe. 

 Jonas could curl up with the baby on top. . . 

 Or sometimes with the baby on bottom.  Either way the "nurse and cuddle" worked for us. 

Two years later there's not another new baby yet, and that's a good thing, because Wyatt and Jonas are still engaged in a fierce turf war over my lap.  They lean against and elbow each other trying to gain priority seating.  And occasionally Jonas with cry out in frustration, "There's too much boys!"

And silently I wonder if they can remember--it's been this way from the start.

Mother of a Terrible Two

 My baby is almost two.  And by "baby" I mean the shortest boy at our house--all of whom are tall, skinny, full of personality and independence, and plenty of their own ideas about "the way things are."

 Wyatt is something of a little terror.  He jumps on the little piano like ten fingers just don't quite make enough noise for his purposes.

One day he removed all the spice jars from their rack and stuffed them into the toaster oven--and turned it on.  We were tipped off by the conflicting olfactory sensations of fragrant warm herbs, and melting plastic lids. 

He recently pulled a Texas Sheet Cake from on top of the stove, and found to his satisfaction that the fall caused the lid to pop off giving him full access to the sheet pan of cake.

Some days it's a bit hard to take.  So I get a really big kick out of the book "Love You Forever", by Robert Munsch--you know the one: 

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.

. . .that book that makes everyone cry because of how special the love between a parent and their child is.   Well, I like it for a different reason.  This passage is one of my favorites.

The baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was two years old, and he ran all around the house. He pulled all the books off the shelves. He pulled all the food out of the refrigerator and he took his mother's watch and flushed it down the toilet. Sometimes his mother would say, "this kid is driving me CRAZY!"

Those words could only have been written by a parent who has lived in the trenches, and survived to tell the tale.  If someone who at one point had children who were as "misbehaved" as mine usually are, and felt those parental feelings of frustration, could still go on to write an inter-generationally beloved book about the great love between a parent and child--then surely there is hope for me. 

Jeremy made an observation this morning.  He said that the reason we don't have girls is probably because we would be the PERFECT parents of little girls--we would do everything right.  But since the point of life is to learn and grow and develop then God has only sent us little boys, because we have the most to learn from being parents of a house of little boys right now.  It sounded like a great theory to me--so for now I'm going to accept it.

I've long tried to embrace my household of little boys, to appreciate the things that only come with little boys-- and I feel like I've done pretty well with that.  Though I'll still freely admit that sometimes my favorite interactions with my boys are the ones in which they are sleeping.  And I can allow my heart to be filled with love alone, and have those feelings deep inside to get me through the next day.

Today in my Life

Today I chronicled "a day in my life" as a part of a blog hop.  You would think it would be easy to chronicle "a day in the life" but I quickly found the hang up. Though I could have crafted a romantic look into the typical rhythm of a day in my life, I chose instead to simply capture "This Day" in my life.  And truly I think what I have captured has much more personality, shows more about me, and will be more interesting to me far in the future because I chose to do so despite the many "non-typical" things that went on today.

7:30am I woke up to the smell of oatmeal and the sound of a crying baby.  We kept the boys up a little late last night with a sitter because Jeremy and I were out at a class.  SO the baby hadn't really woken up on the right side of the port-o-crib.  Once he was seated at the table with oatmeal of an edible temperature, and a spoon in his fist he was much happier.  I, on the other hand, would rather still have been in bed. 

And yeah, we're eating out of a random selection of tupperware and pyrex bowls, because the dishes didn't get done last night.

8:00am After breakfast Owen read scripture stories to us.  We recently finished Book of Mormon Stories and have now started on Doctrine and Covenants Stories.  Last semester when we were homeschooling we would let them watch the accompanying videos, but today he needed to get dressed for school.

 8:30am Jeremy left to take Owen to school--he's been attending his local elementary school again for the last week and a half.  Jonas went along for the ride.

I sat down to post on my Urban Pioneer Story blog--a great post about our latest homesteading adventure.  And I checked on a few blogs, and Pinterest (love!).

Jeremy got back and got ready and left for campus for the day.  I got dressed and picked up the living room.

10:15am  My visiting teacher came over for a while.  Jonas and her son played trains while the moms enjoyed a nice chat. 

11:30am The boys and I drove down to Owen's school to eat a "special" hot dog families-invited lunch, celebrating "Hot dog!  We're so excited construction is complete on the new school gym." 

Then they played on the playground together until it was time for Owen to go back to class.

12:30pm I put the baby down for a nap.  (He slept for three hours he was so worn out.)

I lay in bed for a while and read a book, and tried unsuccessfully to get Jonas to entertain himself on the computer. Finally I just abandoned the book.

 

Jonas and I worked on grinding some wheat--I'll make bread tomorrow.   

 And I did a little bit of laundry.

3:55pm With the baby in tow we picked up Owen from school.  When we got home Owen did his chore of feeding the chickens.  Then the boys stayed outside for a half hour to play in the nice weather.

After heading in the boys sat down to watch Danger Mouse on Hulu (Jeremy got them into it) while I made dinner.

 5:30pm We sat down for dinner.  Mushroom and kale polenta--perfect wintery comfort food. 

After dinner I gathered supplies and Jeremy and I practiced some twostep moves.  (One day we'll look like this.)

6:30pm We left the house to go teach the two step at for Mutual (youth program) at church.

8:40pm We arrive home and put the boys to bed (late for the second night in a row--I hate that).

9:00pm I'm in bed.  A hahahaha!  No I'm on the computer, writing on my blog.  Usually I alternate days on the blogs, but today's blog hop is a special occasion.  I'll probably browse Pinterest a bit more.  Read more blog posts in my queue.  After Jeremy finishes doing dishes, we may watch something on Netflix or Hulu.  Jeremy needs to do his physical therapy.  I may take a bath or read more of my book.  Then before bed it is time for scriptures and prayers, and talking way too late into the night.

2:00am  I can probably guarantee to be asleep by then.

Today was definitely not a typical day, but I don't really think typical days happen all that often at all.  Today was a day.  We got most everything done we needed to (We missed family scripture study--we should have done it during dinner since we were going to be out late.)  A "typical" day may have seen Jonas and I at the library for story time this morning--but in the real day we preferred our visitors and our visit to school instead.  Here's to non-typical days--may our life be full of many more enjoyable ones.


Want to read more "days in the life"?  click here

Boys in the Backyard

The boys are bored and bothering each other. “Everyone put boots on and go out back!” I banish them with an abrupt order. Beneath the abundant beaming rays of sun, the boys begin to blossom. They imbibe the fresh air, taking deep breaths of the balmy afternoon breeze.

Then they break—each one obliged to obey their own beckoning impulses, oblivious to inhibition. Footwear becomes too cumbersome for the job so boots are abandoned for bare feet. The babble of voices bubbles across the backyard.

The baby climbs aboard the bicycle—his toes barely brushing the blades of grass. He bounces above the bike beaming with infant pride.

Jonas begins by bothering the bantams. The band of birds scatters in defense, but Jonas breaks through the barricade and grabs a baby chicken, tossing the bundle over his shoulder--exhibiting his trophy around the backyard like a tribute bestowed upon him for bravery.

The hole Owen's been digging  by the old battered boat is unmistakably bigger than before. His brain is busy contemplating his make-believe obligation. Satisfied, he buries his feet beneath the brown dirt.

Any passing object could become the new beneficiary of the obsessive attention of three little boys. Birds, bees, butterflies and bunny rabbits each take a turn bisecting the yard, bringing momentary bedlam, which usually ends as abruptly as it began as the boys go back about their own business.

It’s abominable to head back indoors but as blue above begins to darken and slow blinks begin to linger longer—I know it’s time to beckon my little boys in for a quick bath before bedtime. The boisterous noises ebb as the boys break for the night. Owen lags behind, a little caboose, hesitant to leave his personal arboretum of bliss. “Don’t be sad,” I bolster his spirits, “The fun will be back again with daybreak.”



This typical summer afternoon was brought to you by the letter “B”.  Read More.

Mothering Boys

Motherhood is full of great joys,
'Specially with my three young boys.
They jump in the air,
Off my couch and my chair.
I wonder why we even buy toys.

(What?  It's a limerick--see more motherhood limericks here.)

I really try hard to embrace being the mother of three boys.  We hope for additional child(ren), and I would love for a little girl to come along, but the fact remains that my first three are boys.  Thus I've spent a lot of time pondering what that will mean about the way our days will play out as a family.

Immediately after finding out that we were having our second boy I signed up for the ladies' craft day at church to make a set of campfire roasting sticks.  Because camping will be something we can do as a family with boys, right?  I might as well be prepared.

I don't believe in strict gender stereotyping (my boys have plenty of dolls and a play kitchen as well) but I do have a little bit of nostalgia for the little boys of yesteryear.  Running around outside, playing in a creek, catching tadpoles, and sailing stick-boats down the current. 

I almost cried the first time I had to put a band-aid on Owen's little knee. (Tears of joy for what a good little boy he was being.)

For Christmas last year we almost didn't give gifts from Santa (that is a topic for another day) but we realized Jeremy's sister, whom we were visiting, lived right by an IKEA.  On Christmas Eve we were at IKEA picking up a gift that Jeremy and I had wanted to give Jonas, and we came across their indoor rope toys.  I had fallen in love with the idea of doorway swings while overseas, and I knew that with my brood of boys--and the perfect crossbeam in our house separating the "old" house from the "new" house--that my boys' Christmas morning just got a little more interesting. 

 So they got a rope swing--which they love.

 And the family gets a kick out of watching them.

 And they got a rope ladder, which Jonas loves, and Owen can sometimes be persuaded to play on if it's "Jonas' turn" on the swing.

But a lot of the time Jonas is content to use the bottom rung of the ladder as a swing as well.

And I am content watching my boys "be boys" in only the best ways, while I make dinner to the side.  But I get just a little worried when Wyatt let's me know that he's getting nimble enough to play with his brothers as well.

Hail to the Chief

I love getting inspiration for boy-oriented projects. I have three little boys at home. Add on top of that one not-so-little boy and I'm completely outnumbered. And as good of a sport Jeremy is at saying "yes those ruffle bum onesies are soooo adorable" he really can appreciate a boy-directed craft with more natural enthusiasm.

And so it was with great enthusiasm that I ran last year into these two blogs running simultaneous month-long blogging events focused entirely on boy projects.




Luckily they are at it again and I've been enjoying checking out their postings everyday, all in celebration of: 




One of the projects I loved but saw too late last year was President's Day T-shirts.  I didn't let the opportunity pass us by again--Saterday we were out at Hobby Lobby picking up blank t-shirts (and some copper-colored fabric paint).

Working on projects with little ones is always crazy.  Basically Jeremy and I worked on making the freezer paper stencils, and we actually tried out cutting the paper into 8.5x11 sheets and sending them through the printer with a reasonable amount of success. We cut em out and ironed them to the shirts and helped the boys paint them. 

And you can see that someone ended up with a smudge on their shirt because they couldn't wait patiently for help and opened a paint bottle which squirted across the table.   Oh well, natural consequences eh?  And they turned out pretty well despite it. 

The black one is mine then going clockwise there's Jeremy's, Owen's, and the Washington profile belongs to Jonas. 

We used some dimensional paint on Owen's.  He did like that though he still wanted his to have an eye.  Can't win 'em all.

I wasn't sure how well the penny details would come out on mine, but I like how it ended up.  My favorite thing about it though is the sparkly metallic copper paint--I am still a girl after all.

Happy President's Day!

Bummer

Yesterday was a TWO-Popsicle kind of day.

Two popsicles for ONE big fat lip.

It's almost my fault too.  I just kind-of thought Jonas' instinct for self-preservation would be a bit stronger.

Oh well, as Futurama once facetiously taught us: "Learning is fun."

Sorry you learned that one the hard way babe.