Full of light

I snapped this photo last Saturday just before Neil and I went out to dinner. I love it because it captures just how I feel these days: happy. Content. Full of light and invigorated by life.

It feels a little silly to blog when I have nothing to say other than "I am so much happier than I have been in years and years and years," but that's the truth.

Tonight I was at a flower & garden show with a friend. We had such a good time just wandering around looking at things and chatting. At one point we had stopped by a booth that was making customized orthotics, and we were talking about foot issues and she asked if I was training for anything right now, and I said I'd originally been training for a marathon but had to drop down to the half because of plantar fasciitis. We talked a little more about the time commitment involved in marathon training, and as we were talking I realized something--for the first time in years I am not using running as a method of control. I mean, I ran a marathon with a stress fracture, for crying out loud! And I am so happy and so content in my life right now that running is ancillary to my happiness, and I have not been able to say that since 2007.

Literally.

For so many years I felt like so many things in my life were out of my control--that I was suspended in limbo, unable to progress forward. And in the last five months I have felt absolutely drenched in the outpouring of heaven's blessings--literally, I have felt that there is not room enough to receive all that the Lord has given us. I am so incredibly grateful for the amazing friends that surround us here and the way I have just fallen in love with our life here.

I'm going to write that again because I can't emphasize it enough--I am so, so, so grateful for the friends we are making here. I don't think it is possible to feel more welcomed and loved than I have felt.

And my children are thriving. Really and truly thriving. We had a few very rocky months but we're coming through and things are SO good for everyone.

Neil is loving his new job. He feels valued and appreciated & that his work is measurably contributing to the company's success. Such a blessing after the last twelve years of entirely opposite treatment!!! (I really can't write much about that here but most of you probably know what I want to say.)

And I love our home here so much. Every day I just look around and I'm filled with such gratitude that we live here in this beautiful home and that we are able to do projects that make me love it even more (in the last two weeks we installed new double ovens and a Jenn-Air gas commercial-style gas cooktop and ALL THE HEART EYES).

I love our ward here. I love that my children are excited to go to church and that they are learning so much from so many good people. I love love love my calling and the chance to serve with the amazing women in the presidency and our absolutely fantastic group of Primary workers.

I love the library with its heirloom seed library and its child-sized door for storytime and its endless rows of books that make it double the size of any library I've been in before. I love the arts & design district which is always the high point of my runs and I love the trails along the river and the greenway that is full of friendly runners and the roundabouts that drove me nuts at first but now I can't live without them. I love the Christmas lights that are still up on the fountains and pine trees in the center of the roundabouts. I love that my kids can bike to school or to the playground and that there are always kids out playing tennis in the street or biking or starting up a game of baseball. I love the funny weekly paper that always gives me info about what exciting things are going on. I love the parks with their inventive play structures and free maple sugar bush tours (hello that was the best morning ever!!!). I love the schools that give my kids the opportunity to study violin and foreign languages and STEM and ceramics. I love seeing Isaac's excitement when I pick him up from programming club and Abigail's joy after rocketry club. I love that the soccer fields and baseball fields are both within biking distance from our house. I love the ponds and creeks everywhere--it seems like I can always hear the sound of water. I love the proximity to Costco and Trader Joe's and IKEA and Whole Foods and Hobby Lobby--this is the first time in more than a decade that I can be at a Target in five minutes instead of twenty-five! I love our fantastic piano teacher and all our friendly welcoming dog-walking neighbors that my kids always refer to by name & pet as they walk by: "That's Melvin with the sausage dog." "There's Elaine with the frisky black dog." I love the friends who show up at my door with soup when I have the flu and the friends who drive carpool with me and the friends who worry about class changes for next year with me and the friends who lovingly describe pie recipes while we run at 6 am and the friends who stay at my house until 11 pm and tell me we feel like family and the friends who tell my kids they can't just eat tortilla chips for dinner and the friends who drop by to chat & clean my kitchen while they're at it and the friends who invite me for movie nights and the friends who have us over for dinner because they have lots of kids too and don't mind the crazy and the friends who trade playdates with me and text me for spontaneous double date nights and the friends who just text me to see how the day is going and if I want to meet up at a park.

I love it here.

There were so many dark years in West Lafayette where I honestly did not know if I would survive. If our marriage would survive. If my faith would survive. I clung so desperately to the promises I had felt and the peace I had felt when we originally prayed about our choice to attend Purdue for graduate school. I reminded myself over and over of the words of our stake president in blessings that he gave Neil & me during our last years there--that this was where the Lord wanted us; that he was mindful of our family, and that this was all for a wise purpose in him.

And I am so overwhelmed with joy and gratitude to see that purpose now. To know that had Neil not been forced to switch research topics after six years that this job would not have been possible. That had he not been delayed over and over by equipment failures, by funding losses, by research obstacles, that this field would not have been an area of extreme priority for his current employer. That had his funding continued as we had originally planned he would never have been assigned to the research opportunity that introduced him to his employer; that had his funding not completely run out and he literally worked for almost a year for no salary...this job would never have worked out in the way it did. That we would never have experienced the richness of happiness that we are enjoying now.

And I am so grateful for the fact that during all those years I was able to work. When Neil and I were married, my plan was to go to law school, and as I was proceeding with my application and preparation for the LSAT, it was very very very clear to me that law was not the Lord's plan for me, and that I was supposed to pursue a master's in English instead. I was absolutely ENRAGED by this (I vividly remember throwing everything within reach when I got up from that prayer), but my master's program gave me the training and education that has provided for our family so that we never had to take out student loans. We definitely lived on a student budget (and man did I love ordering furniture for our new home over the last few months!) but we always had enough for our needs and some of our wants. Such tremendous blessings and I can so clearly see the hand of the Lord guiding us here over the last fifteen years.

I just really hope that we get to stay put for awhile. ;-)

Last but not least, I have thought of this talk so, so, so, so, so many times over the last years. Neil and I used to listen to it a lot the first few years that we were married--we would go for a drive up in the mountains and turn this on. So frequently I would be praying and just pleading with the Lord to help me make it through another day and I would hear "I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to be."

So I hope this helps someone else the way it has helped me.

"Could I tell you just a quick story out of my own experience in life? Sixty-odd years ago I was on a farm in Canada. I had purchased the farm from another who had been somewhat careless in keeping it up. I went out one morning and found a currant bush that was at least six feet high. I knew that it was going all to wood. There was no sign of blossom or of fruit. I had had some experience in pruning trees before we left Salt Lake to go to Canada, as my father had a fruit farm. So I got my pruning shears and went to work on that currant bush, and I clipped it and cut it and cut it down until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps.

And as I looked at them, I yielded to an impulse, which I often have, to talk with inanimate things and have them talk to me. It’s a ridiculous habit. It’s one I can’t overcome. As I looked at this little clump of stumps, there seemed to be a tear on each one, and I said, “What’s the matter, currant bush? What are you crying about?”

And I thought I heard that currant bush speak. It seemed to say, “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as large as the fruit tree and the shade tree, and now you have cut me down. And all in the garden will look upon me with contempt and pity. How could you do it? I thought you were the gardener here.”

I thought I heard that from the currant bush. I thought it so much that I answered it.

I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. If I let you go the way you want to go, you will never amount to anything. But someday, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to think back and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’”

Ten years passed, and I found myself in Europe. I had made some progress in the First World War in the Canadian army. In fact, I was a field officer, and there was only one man between me and the rank of general, which I had cherished in my heart for years. Then he became a casualty. And the day after, I received a telegram from London from General Turner, who was in charge of all Canadian officers. The telegram said, “Be in my office tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

I puffed up. I called my special servant. (We called them “batmen” over there.) I said, “Polish my boots and my buttons. Make me look like a general, because I am going up tomorrow to be appointed.”

He did the best he could with what he had to work on, and I went to London. I walked into the office of the general. I saluted him smartly, and he replied to my salute as higher officers usually do to juniors—sort of a “Get out of the way, worm.” Then he said, “Sit down, Brown.”

I was deflated. I sat down. And he said, “Brown, you are entitled to this promotion, but I cannot make it. You have qualified and passed the regulations, you have had the experience, and you are entitled to it in every way, but I cannot make this appointment.”

Just then he went into the other room to answer a phone call, and I did what most every officer and man in the army would do under those circumstances: I looked over on his desk to see what my personal history sheet showed. And I saw written on the bottom of that history sheet in large capital letters: “THIS MAN IS A MORMON.”

Now at that time we were hated heartily in Britain, and I knew why he couldn’t make the appointment. Finally he came back and said, “That’s all, Brown.”

I saluted him, less heartily than before, and went out. On my way back to Shorncliffe, 120 kilometers away, I thought every turn of the wheels that clacked across the rails was saying, “You’re a failure. You must go home and be called a coward by those who do not understand.”

And bitterness rose in my heart until I arrived, finally, in my tent, and I rather vigorously threw my cap on the cot, together with my Sam Browne belt. I clenched my fist, and I shook it at heaven, and I said, “How could you do this to me, God? I’ve done everything that I knew how to do to uphold the standards of the Church. I was making such wonderful growth, and now you’ve cut me down. How could you do it?”

And then I heard a voice. It sounded like my own voice, and the voice said, “I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to be. If I let you go the way you want to go, you will never amount to anything. And someday, when you are ripened in life, you are going to shout back across the time and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’”

Those words—which I recognize now as my words to the currant bush and that had become God’s word to me—drove me to my knees, where I prayed for forgiveness for my arrogance and my ambition.

As I was praying there, I heard some Mormon boys in an adjoining tent singing the closing number to an M.I.A. session, which I usually attended with them. And I recognized these words, which all of you have memorized:

It may not be on the mountain height
Or over the stormy sea;
It may not be at the battle’s front
My Lord will have need of me;
But if, by a still, small voice he calls
To paths that I do not know,
I’ll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in thine:
I’ll go where you want me to go.
. . .
So trusting my all to thy tender care,
And knowing thou lovest me,
I’ll do thy will with a heart sincere;
I’ll be what you want me to be.
[“It May Not Be on the Mountain Height,” Hymns,1948, no. 75]

My young friends and brothers and sisters, will you remember that little experience that changed my whole life? Had the Gardener not taken control and done for me what was best for me, or if I had gone the way I wanted to go, I would have returned to Canada as a senior commanding officer of western Canada. I would have raised my family in a barracks. My six daughters would have had little chance to marry in the Church. I myself would probably have gone down and down. I do not know what might have happened, but this I know, and this I say to you and to Him in your presence, looking back over sixty years: “Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down.”

--Hugh B Brown, "God Is the Gardener"

Joy

Most of you reading this blog know that I'm a Mormon, or member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, as we call ourselves. (Yes! We really are Christians! Right there in the name of our church.) ;-)

One of the unique things about our Sunday meetings is that we have a "lay ministry," or no professionals at all--everyone in a leadership position is a volunteer. And since we have no professional pastor or minister, everyone who speaks or teaches in our Sunday meetings is also a volunteer! A few weeks ago, I was asked to speak on the topic of joy during our main Sunday meeting. Today happened to be our Christmas program (since many of the people in our congregation are graduate students and won't be here on Christmas, we do it a few weeks early).

So during today's meeting, after the sacrament was blessed and passed, our ward choir (again, all volunteers) sang "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." Then an older sister in our congregation gave a beautiful talk on coming to Christ, then the choir sang, "Oh Come, All Ye Faithful." And then I spoke, and then the choir and congregation together sang "Joy to the World" and the meeting ended and we went off to the next couple hours of church with individual classes for children, youth, and adults. (If you want to attend a meeting, come with me if you live locally--yay!!--or you can search for a local congregation using this website).

But anyway--this is the message I prepared and shared today.
********************

Good morning, brothers and sisters. I was asked to speak on joy today. I’d like to begin by giving you a bit of background on our family to contextualize some of my remarks. My husband, Neil, and I have been in school throughout the entirety of the fourteen years we’ve been married. We met at BYU just after he returned from his mission; he was a new freshman and I was a sophomore.  Our daughter Abigail was born at the end of my first year of graduate school; we have added five more children to our family while Neil has been pursuing a Ph.D. During this time, I have also taught concurrently at Purdue to support his studies. It has been a long road with many challenges.  At times, joy has been in short supply. In Psalms, we read that “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” I have had many nights—and mornings—of weeping, but joy does come.

Elder Oaks teaches us that “joy is more than happiness. Joy is the ultimate sensation of well-being. It comes from being complete and in harmony with our Creator and his eternal laws.”

In my experience, joy is both something for which we must actively work and is the goal of our existence. As we learn in 2 Nephi when reading about the experience of Adam and Eve in the garden, Men—and women--are that they might have joy, but our knowledge of how exquisite this joy is is itself based upon the contrast with misery. This is something we see through Alma the Younger’s experience, when he remarks “there could be nothing so exquisite and so bitter as were my pains. Yea, and again I say unto you, there can be nothing so exquisite and sweet as was my joy.”

Elder Richard G. Scott teaches that “I do not minimize how hard some of these events are. They can extend over a long period of time, but they should not be allowed to become the confining center of everything you do. The Lord’s intent is that each of us finds joy, as [we] obey the commandments, have faith in the Master, and do the things that are necessary to have joy here on earth.”

This, then, begs the question—what do we do to have joy here on earth?

Our leaders teach that there are 3 levels of joy—the first is appreciating the simple beauties in life, and is akin to the way children view the world. Elder Oaks remarks, “When I think of happiness or joy in this life, I begin with some experiences that are simple and basic. I remember a two-year-old immersed in a soft ice cream cone. I think of a child loving a puppy or a kitten. The more mature can also experience joy in what is simple and basic—in flowers and other growing things, in a sunrise or sunset or other beauties of nature, in wholesome companionship.”

We can first find joy through appreciating the small but wonderful things in our lives. The second level of joy is actively seeking out ways to experience joyful moments in our lives.

In my own life, I have dealt with the specter of severe and debilitating depression. It has been a real effort for me to find joy in my life, and I have found that it is something that I have had to work very consciously to achieve. What I have learned, more than anything, is that joy does not always come on its own. I cannot sit back and wait for bliss to wash over me. I have to construct my life so that joyful moments are possible, likely, and frequent. Joy takes work. One thing we have done in our family is actually sitting down and making a list every season of the things we want to do together as a family. Doing this allows us to have time together where we actually enjoy being together, giving us the opportunity to feel that fleeting but incandescent joy in those idealized moments that do not come naturally in days that are otherwise packed with laundry, homework, and all the minutiae of daily life.

Additionally, Elder Scott specifically mentions being creative as a way to bring more joy into our lives: “Select something like music, dance, sculpture, or poetry. Being creative will help you enjoy life. It engenders a spirit of gratitude. It develops latent talent, sharpens your capacity to reason, to act, and to find purpose in life. It dispels loneliness and heartache. It gives a renewal, a spark of enthusiasm, and zest for life.”

Elder Oaks teaches: “Another source of happiness and mortal joy is the accomplishment of worthy goals, simple things like physical exercise or more complex goals like the completion of an arduous task.” I couldn’t agree more with this—I am an ardent runner for two reasons. One, in a more temporal sphere, is the feeling of joy and satisfaction I feel when I cross the finish line of a major goal race. Two, running alone is the time when I feel most connected to the Savior. It provides me the time and physical space away from the needs of my family and daily life to pray and listen for hours on end.

This brings me to the third way we find joy in mortality, which is of lasting and eternal significance--the joy that comes from a unification with our Heavenly Father and Savior as we strive to draw closer to them.

At our most recent conference, Elder Nelson taught, “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.

When the focus of our lives is on God’s plan of salvation and Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives. Joy comes from and because of Him. He is the source of all joy. We feel it at Christmastime when we sing, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come.” And we can feel it all year round. For Latter-day Saints, Jesus Christ is joy!”

At Christmastime, we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, who has bourne our griefs and carried our sorrows, who experienced the most bitter pains ever known so that we might in turn experience the most exquisite joy ever known—our redemption from sin, the reunification of body with spirit after resurrection, and our ability to live with God in the eternities. Surely, as the Psalmist wrote, this is a joy of the morning.

The Savior’s peace passeth all understanding. So does the joy which he offers us. Elder Nelson asks, “If we focus on the joy that will come to us, or to those we love, what can we endure that presently seems overwhelming, painful, scary, unfair, or simply impossible? What repenting will then be possible? What weakness will become a strength? What chastening will become a blessing? What disappointments, even tragedies, will turn to our good? And what challenging service to the Lord will we be able to give? Joy is a gift for the faithful  It is the gift that comes from intentionally trying to live a righteous life, as taught by Jesus Christ. Every day that you and I choose to live celestial laws, every day that we keep our covenants and help others to do the same, joy will be ours.”

We can find joy in our lives through striving to appreciate the small good things, the beautiful moments, through working to create more of these moments in a myriad of ways, and through striving for a deepened relationship with our Savior and Redeemer. In closing, I would like to share my favorite verses from the Book of Mormon, where the king of the Lamanites asks Aaron how he can draw closer to the Lord, saying:

"What shall I do that I may have this eternal life of which thou hast spoken? Yea, what shall I do that I may be born of God, having this wicked spirit rooted out of my breast, and receive his Spirit, that I may be filled with joy, that I may not be cast off at the last day? Behold, said he, I will give up all that I possess, yea, I will forsake my kingdom, that I may receive this great joy."
And upon Aaron’s response that the king should repent and call upon the Lord, the king cries,

“O God, Aaron hath told me that there is a God; and if there is a God, and if thou art God, wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee, and that I may be raised from the dead, and be saved at the last day.”

As we, in turn, give away all our sins to know the Lord, as we strive to seek out joy in our daily lives, we can truly come to know him, to experience the peace which passeth understanding, to experience the fullness of joy that cometh in the morning with the Savior, and we will rejoice. May we at Christmastime and all year long strive to more fully appreciate the tremendous gifts which we have been given, and find joy in the journey back to our Father in Heaven. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Sources:

Richard G. Scott: Finding Joy in Life (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/1996/04/finding-joy-in-life?lang=eng&_r=1)

Dallin H. Oaks: Joy and Mercy (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/1991/10/joy-and-mercy?lang=eng&_r=1)

Russell M. Nelson: Joy and Spiritual Survival (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2016/10/joy-and-spiritual-survival?lang=eng&_r=1)

The Book of Mormon:
     2 Nephi 2: 25: https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/2.25?lang=eng
     Alma 22: https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/alma/22.18?lang=eng

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My last (?) baby is 16 months old

This boy is less baby and more toddler every day! I took all of these photos yesterday (Sunday) and wow, they're pretty blurry, but you should have seen the ones I'm not posting...he is go go go all the time. (And as you'll see farther down, he also figured out how to use my iPad to take selfies during family scripture study. 16 months my foot). 

Nathan's second year of life is so much more enjoyable for all of us than his first. He is eating and drinking and we are no longer having to track how many ounces of weight he gains every day, which is awesome. I can finally just relax and enjoy him--okay, I can just try to keep up with him, as he is WAY more skilled/agile/crafty/climbing than any and all of our other children. His favorite thing to do is to run into the bathroom, close the toilet lids, climb into one of the sinks, turn on the faucets, and simultaneously stuff all the nearby toothbrushes into his mouth (which is why the most frequent noise in our house is an older child yelling "Tottie Alert! Tottie Alert! Tottie Alert!" and then enraged Nathan yells as he is pulled away from whatever activity he is not supposed to be doing, like taking my Garmin GPS watch for a dip in the toilet, or climbing inside the washer, or climbing onto the trampoline BY HIMSELF or opening the fridge/dishwasher/oven/interior doors, licking the power meter, etc. You know, just those sorts of things). 

Good thing he's so darn cute that he has every single one of us (except Luke, who still views him as a crazed interloper) wrapped around his finger. When the biggies get home from school they immediately run to him and he greets them by name ("Bah-bah-boh! Doo-wa!") and then gives them giant slobbery kisses all over their faces. 

I was giving the boys haircuts last week and every time I tried to use the scissors on Tot, he went crazy trying to pull them away and use them himself (yes, that's another great skill he's already mastered). So he ended up with a buzz cut, in case you were wondering...

This set of photos is all from scripture study the other night. I was using my iPad since Tot had my copy of the Book of Mormon (we just keep a big stack on our end table and pass them out for scriptures) and I couldn't help but take a few pictures of how intent he was. Of course, it didn't take him long to decide that he'd really rather trade me the paperback version for the electronic...

So as you may remember from past posts, I have really been agonizing for the last six months or so over whether it is time to shift our focus from growing our family to raising our family. This is another thing where I have finally found peace and friends, I am just loving the stage we are in right now and the opportunity to really focus in and enjoy each of my children as individuals. My pregnancies have been increasingly difficult and I'm looking forward to a fall that is not spent on bed rest (that is, if this darn plantar fasciitis calms down!) 

Before we had children, Neil and I always planned to have six children, and part of me is like, what, don't quit now! and another part of me is like, hello, dummy, don't have another child just to hit a numerical goal. As our children get older I realize how easy it is to keep having babies--because babies are easy! Don't get me wrong, pregnancy, delivery, sleepless nights and crying babies (and parents!) and exploding diapers and never going anywhere during naptime--those things are not easy--but now that I am dealing with some real heartbreakers of issues with my older children, I'm realizing more and more that I need to be 100% present for them in a way that I just can't be with a difficult pregnancy or a newborn. This answer isn't a one-size-fits-all type, but this is what I have come to feel after lots of fasting and prayer and blessings and loooong talks with my husband. (Plus, do you realize that in a year I could be DONE with diapers and naptime?!?!?!) In hindsight, I think so many of the difficulties of the last year prepared me to accept an answer that I never would have been content with otherwise--does that make any sense at all? It's still really bittersweet to me--and who knows, we might have another couple of children in a few years--but for now, I am focusing on the babies I have.

 

I remember a friend of mine telling me that with her fifth and last child, she and her husband were constantly saying to each other,"This phase is so darling! Did so-and-so do such cute things at this age? Goodness, we missed out on a lot!" and I often feel the same way. Natie is a rascal but an absolutely darling, endearing, precious little rascal, and I am enjoying his toddlerhood so much...as are we all. Cross your fingers that this child is not going to be spoiled by the total and unreserved adoration of his parents and siblings (don't worry, they still frequently lock him out of their rooms so he can't eat their Legos and Neil & I are still driven bonkers by his inventive antics, so it's not all Nathan-worship around here!).

Pretty darn lovable.

So remember when I mentioned that he figured out how to take selfies? Yeah, he's totally in love with the camera button AND with seeing his own little face (I like how my arm is in every single one of these pictures trying to hold the iPad out of his reach and frantically trying to get back to my scriptures app. Why do little kids figure out how to do crazy electronic navigational shortcuts that I can never recreate?

aaaand the end, because mean Mommy took away the iPad.

Depths

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I have another blog post loaded and ready to publish with all kinds of pictures and peppy talk and whatnot. Tomorrow.

Tonight is a night for journal-posting, and fair warning, this is a real downer.

I’m in the middle of switching to a new antidepressant right now. I was on Zoloft and it was working really well to control my moods, but there were some side effects that I was tired of dealing with, and so I’m switching over to Wellbutrin. I knew going into it that it would be rough, and Neil knew it would be rough, and I tried to give the kids a warning…but man oh man, I forgot just how hard it would be.  At 2 PM today I had to call Neil and ask him to come home from work because I was so far from myself that I didn't feel like I should be alone with the children.

When I got off the phone with Neil I had collapsed into a heap on the floor and was crying when I felt Isaac’s little hands patting my head and saying, “Oh Mommy, I am so sorry this day is hard. Things will be better soon.” And then he picked out some of my favorite kids’ books and asked me to read stories to him—we’d just had a conversation yesterday about how reading to the kids is my very favorite thing to do as a mother. Sweet, sweet boy.

I know that a lot of what I am feeling right now is induced by the drug cocktail that is making its way through my body, and that I’m both going through withdrawal from the Zoloft and adjustment to the Wellbutrin, to say nothing of all the regular hormones! But it is just hard right now.  I can’t sleep without taking a sleep aid, I’m jittery and anxious and none of my usual methods work to calm me down—I went for a short (3.5 mile) run yesterday and ended up having to walk the last half-mile home because my body was shaking so much and I was so nauseated—I barely made it to the bathroom in time. I honestly cannot remember the last time I had to walk during a run.

Today I ripped through my kitchen and dragged out the hutch that Neil bought me for my birthday the first summer we were married. It’s been with us for almost 12 years and I’ve always loved it, but today I couldn’t stand to look at it for one more minute.

I wish I knew how much of my anxiety and depression stems from physical factors, and how much of it is situational. I can’t even tell you how stressed I am right now about Neil’s graduate program—if you’re keeping track, we are starting our ninth year of graduate school. 

Nine.  

Even typing that makes me start to hyperventilate.  Abigail will be in 4^th grade this year. We’ve outgrown our house and we have long since outgrown the student stipend Neil gets as a research assistant (hah, who am I kidding, it’s enough for a single student and that’s it!).

 I am so tired of working and I know I should be grateful that my job has enabled us to stay free from student loans or car loans, but all I can think about is the retirement accounts and 401(k) accounts and the kids’ college and things like that that we aren’t actively saving for aside from our general savings.

 I’m so tired of having my husband gone until 2 am every night. I worry about how his stress and exhaustion are impacting his relationship with our kids. 

I’m heartsick after saying goodbye to dear friend after friend as they have graduated and moved on—I can’t even count the number of friends I have lost. I miss them so much but at the same time it’s exhausting to think of investing similar energy into new friendships that will inevitably end in another year or two.

One of the things that is most frustrating to me right now is how out of control I feel in so many aspects of my life. I don’t  know when we will graduate. I can’t do anything to help that timeline move more quickly. I don’t have a good rock-solid system for getting my kids to help around the house and that is an endless source of stress for me (an ongoing war between worrying that I’m nagging too much and the thought that they may grow up without a good work ethic if I don’t teach them now).  I’m not as organized and on top of things as I usually am; I feel like I’m really letting things slide this summer with the kids academically. It’s incredibly hard for me to get enough sleep and instead of being up at 5:30 AM like I used to, I’m lucky to be awake by 9. I used to love cooking and deciding what exciting meals I would make, but it’s become the thing I dread most due to the children’s responses to anything I make. And let's not forget that five kids is a lot of work--hard, exhausting, not-at-all-glamorous work. Last but not least, I am so, so, so unhappy with my self-image right now; the anti-depressants I’ve been on have made it really hard for me to maintain my normal weight, even with marathon training. I look in the mirror and feel so unattractive—over the last month I’ve dyed my hair once and cut it three times. Each time I was happy for about a minute and then I felt worse. I got together with some friends this morning and all I could think about was that I was the most dowdy, out-of-shape, and unattractive woman there.

So. There it is. I’m praying that this gets better soon. Right now I feel so full of despair and I don’t know how it will get better, but I’m retaining enough clear-sightedness to know that it will even if it seems impossible now. 

I love cakes and Lukes

I feel like I have a lot that I want to write about, but it's more private journal type of stuff than blog stuff. But I do want to write a little bit here too...just random things.

1) I have been reading a lot lately about mothers that I admire. Right now I am reading up on Maria von Trapp and Lillian Moller Gilbreth. I have a big stack of biographies & autobiographies about the two of them on my nightstand right now (and of course I do love The Story of the von Trapp Family Singers and Cheaper by the Dozen and Belles on Their Toes, all of which I have read and reread dozens of times, but I am loving reading much more in depth about the mothers who headed these families). My favorite out of all the ones I've read so far is this.

2) Kind of on that same note, I have been revamping my feed reader lately to include some new-to-me blogs that focus on mothering. My new favorite is this one. Any good ones you'd suggest?

3) Last Saturday I ran 20 miles. Just in case you hadn't realized it, that is a lot of miles. It was kind of crazy but also awesome in a crazy kind of way. I am running my marathon in 2 weeks and 2 days and I can't believe it!

4) I've been working on our house again a lot lately. I have been doing the 40 bags in 40 days clear-things-out-thing (yes, I do realize I'm not Catholic, but I have always loved the idea of Lent as a time to clear my mind and my heart). Along the way I have been selling off things, donating a ton of things, and freshening up our spaces (thanks to the cash influx!). My very very very favorite thing about this is that I finally found some beautiful wingback chairs to replace the papasan chairs that I have passionately loathed for years. This would be a good place to put a picture but guess what, if I put off this post until I remember to take a good picture the post will never get published.

On the other hand, I have (mostly) finished the boys' room as well, and I did take a picture of half of it. Finishing this room entailed finding new curtains (I was planning to sew these but couldn't find any fabric that I liked in the right price range--I randomly saw these curtains on clearance at Hobby Lobby which I still need to hem and rehang but oh well), painting over the lavender walls and brown molding, painting the bookcase, sewing all of the reading floor pillows, finally hanging the rhino head (Isaac and I made it of paper mache earlier this summer and I then Mod Podged scrapbook paper all over it), painting that little photo frame, and then turning a piece of scrap wood into that reading sign (I painted the words on and it is definitely kind of wonky-looking but it was really fun to paint). Anyway, the rest of the room is done and decorated too but I just didn't bother to take a picture yet. And the lighting is really yellow-green...in person it is much brighter. Oh! And I almost forgot--Neil spray-painted the rhino head with glow-in-the-dark paint, so that is kind of weird but also sort of awesome (I just hope none of my kids end up in therapy because they're convinced a Baskerville-esque rhino is after them).

5) Spring is almost here! Our crocus (croci?) are up and blooming in the back, and the tulips are poking through in the front. Take that, pellets of icy rain/snow that were falling all morning! It has been a loooong winter and in some ways I am SO ready for it to be over and in some ways I am dreading the summer (please don't be wretchedly hot!). I must admit that this kind of winter definitely has its perks in terms of feeling like it is way too cold to do anything other than lounge in front of the fire in our pajamas. My favorite kind of days.

6) Speaking of which, I am starting to think about summer plans with the kiddos. This is (hopefully) our last summer here, which means there is SO much that I want to pack in, and Neil will be working like crazy so I want to just do lots of adventures with the kids. I have really been debating and struggling lately about what I should do with the antidepressants--it has been an awful rocky month--but ultimately I ended up getting a renewal of my prescription because I want to be 100% present this summer, and I have not been able to do that this past month with a lowered dosage. I want to be full of energy and fun and excitement and perseverance rather than feeling defeated by the simple question of what's for lunch (okay, sometimes that is not all that simple. Have I mentioned lately that while I used to LOVE cooking I have decided that I do not always love cooking for my kids?).

Anyway, that's all.

journaling

Tonight I was looking for some old pictures in preparation for a YW lesson. Instead, I found a tattered poem that I had copied down years ago--it's framed on the wall of my grandmother's home in Rexburg, Idaho, and I can't recall ever walking past it without stopping to read it since I noticed it was there.  And I've never looked at the Tetons out of the east-facing windows without thinking of it.

The poem was written by a friend of my grandfather's after his death.  Unlike my mom's father, who has always been a huge part of my life, I've never met my dad's father; he died in a rock-climbing accident in the Grand Tetons the summer before I was born.  I've heard bits and pieces about him, and I've gathered a picture of what he must have been like over the course of family dinners in the house that he and his family built by hand in the Idaho desert.  One day when I was a grad student I climbed to the top of the BYU library, found his typewritten master's thesis, and sat down on the floor in the middle of the stacks and read it cover to cover.  Another time I unfolded a manilla envelope containing his unpublished Western and read it through.  Once when I was very sick with early pregnancy and was sent upstairs to take a nap at my grandmother's home,  I noticed a collection of articles and clippings about him on the bedside table and stayed awake reading those instead. And I've read Hugh Nibley's address (over and over and over) given at his funeral.  I don't know very much about him and I wish I knew more.  I've always worried about asking because I didn't want to bring up painful memories surrounding his death.

But I love this poem.  I remember the summer that I wrote it down; it's the one where I was obsessed with the idea of being an architect and it's written on a sheet of graph paper that I was using to draw blueprints.  It's torn and been retaped because I carried it around for awhile until I had it memorized before carefully sliding it in between plastic sheet protectors.  When I found it again tonight, I thought about recopying it into my journal, and realized...this blog is my journal, not the neglected volumes that I used to write in every day and now pick up sporadically and try to frantically fill in the details of the last few years.

So here it is.

The View
    for Don Decker

At the edge of the desert
where lava gives way to Plano
farms and the wind drifts pure
sand in the lee we chose
the graveyard, pumped water
ninety feet to keep it green.

It's only waste land--nothing
to erode the county tax.
Besides, it's easy digging, no need
to give up more than half a day
if death comes during harvest or just
before planting time.

Lizards bask blue sides
all summer.  Winters, black-tailed
jacks play hide-and-seek
with owls.  The backdrop lava outcrop
forms a natural monument.
As for the view

you can see the Tetons Resurrection
Morning and know exactly where you are.

--Donnell Hunter

reflecting

Today has been a little hard. Yesterday felt like a never-ending marathon of things that had to be done; when I finally fell into bed at 10 pm I felt utterly drained. This morning we spent two hours at the doctor's office for the third time in as many weeks; Isaac needed a breathing treatment and 3 shots, and we ended up leaving with a nebulizer so that we can give him treatments every four hours for the next week (along with steroids and antibiotics). It was disheartening, to say the least.

But I can't help but count my blessings. I am so incredibly thankful for my three children. I was thinking this morning about how much I have "grown up" since Abigail's birth, and how much I still have to learn--but I can recognize the areas where I need to expand and change. I'm so grateful for the chance I have to learn and develop. I'm grateful for a husband who supports my decision to stay home with the children, although my education and talents are such that we could live very comfortably if I worked full-time. I'm grateful for his willingness to live more humbly (and at the same time, for his encouragement as I teach the occasional class or two).

Most of all, I'm just grateful for each day. Sometimes I wake up and think, "Oh no...another one..." but more often I am simply thankful for the opportunity to do a little better and be a little better every day than I was the day before (something that makes it into my prayers every night). I'm grateful for the little moments that transcend the mundane nature of much that I do: for the intent concentration on a little brow as small hands shape a loaf of bread, for a baby who twists around in my lap to give me an enormous grin as he pats my face, for a little girl who practically lives in a pink fluffy tutu.

I'm grateful for mortality. I'm so grateful that I can make my own choices and learn and grow from my mistakes and from my successes. Really, there are few better gifts.

where my heart is

Today I quit my position as an instructional designer. I could go on for a long time about the whys and the wherefores, but it boils down to this: my family is more important. Even if I'm only working when they're asleep, it was a drain on the resources and energy I had to offer, especially with three children and with Abigail getting older.

I've been somewhat dreading actually making this call, since I am the type of person who has a really hard time admitting that I can't do things (case in point: my freshman year at BYU involved 21 credits per semester plus being on the Residence Halls Council, which was about another 20 hours a week planning activities for all the freshmen living in the dorms). Plus, let's be honest, the money was really nice. Especially since I've asked for (and gotten) two very substantial raises in the last five months. On the flip side, there's been some serious spiritual prompting telling me this is the right choice. So I knew I needed to do it.

And after I got off the phone, I felt so free. So light. I wasn't thinking of the lost income. All I could think about was the time I now have. Time to play "Hi-ho, Cherry-o!" a million and one times. Time to read more than one chapter of Little House on the Prairie to Abigail while the other two sleep. Time to reorganize my closets. Time to spend a whole hour planning meals for the week. Time to actually take a few minutes for myself during quiet time. Time playing with the children where there isn't a nagging voice in the back of my head reminding me of the work I need to do when they're asleep. Time to do things that I really love.

I hope this euphoria continues through next week, which is when I start teaching again (but only one class rather than my usual two. And plus, I love teaching. Which I can't really say for instructional design. Here's hoping that the online class works, since most of what I love about teaching is actually interacting with students and being in front of the class).

answers, with some pictures too

What do I want for Christmas? (subtle, Mom)
A food processor. A dehydrator. A Victorio strainer. Cute jewelry. Tongs. A silicone whisk. Yoga classes. More time. A good waterbottle. A Bernina sewing machine. A big thing of maple flavoring because I'm tired of buying a little bottle every month [edit: bought this last weekend]. A short-sleeved button-front sweater that matches everything I currently own. Cute shoes. A really awesome camera. A yellow Le Creuset pitcher. But honestly, now that I've given that list, I really don't need anything, because I'm running out of room. (Maybe yoga classes.)

What's your typical outfit for any given day?
Jeans, a shirt that falls somewhere in between a exercise-worthy T-shirt and a teaching-appropriate Banana Republic buttondown (in other words, something attractive but very washable), my Acorn sheepskin slippers, and a French braid. And right now, I wear my BR red trench coat everywhere--I adore that coat.

What's the most enjoyable book you read this year?
The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss.

If I [my sister Mary Beth] were to come and visit you for a day, what would we do? What if you came to visit me?
We would cook. A lot. Visit the Russian or the Asian grocer. Take the kids to the playground. Stay up late talking and then go for a walk when the stars are out.And if I came to visit you, we would go to Cafe Rio, and then we would go hiking in the mountains. Or I would sit in your carrel and watch you study, which is probably more likely at this point in the semester. :-)

What's one dish you currently want to learn how to cook?
Risotto! But it's hard to find a time when I can just stir something for 30 minutes.

How much time do you typically spend on meal preparation?
Around an hour, but I'm also frequently starting things earlier in the day (like chopping things while the kids eat lunch or mixing up bread right after naptime). Generally I start full-scale dinner prep about forty-five minutes before I want to eat.

What is your favorite way to relax? (Answer cannot be exercise. That is not true relaxing.) :-)
Reading, in my bed, with a little bowl of almonds and Craisins.

What do you want to do when Neil finishes school?
Ideally, we'd like to live somewhere in the West where there are awesome ski resorts, lots of sun, and good gardening weather (we're not asking for much, are we?) Colorado looks nice. As far as jobs go, we're thinking government or private research, but eventually Neil would like to teach. My dream is that we will both end up at BYU as dollar-a-year professors, and we will live in a cabin up Sundance canyon and ski a lot.

How many kids do you want?
When we were first married, we decided we wanted upwards of five. However, after Isaac was born, my doctor gave me a set time frame before I could even start thinking about getting pregnant again and suggested a consultation with general and vascular surgeons beforehand. She also told me I have a good chance of seriously increased complications with subsequent pregnancies...so I guess we'll see.

What do you both do [in terms of employment, I'm guessing?]
The short answer here is that Neil is a doctoral student in mechanical engineering. He works as a teaching assistant for a program centered on engineering in community service, which he loves, because he's teaching undergrads how to solve engineering conundrums. His research area is laser-aided manufacturing, which is the topic for his dissertation--so when I talk about him working in the lab, that's what he's doing.

My teaching is through the university where Neil is doing his doctorate. Up until next semester, I've taught traditional classroom courses in advanced technical and business writing; next semester I'm giving online teaching a whirl. I also do freelance editing and instructional design, which basically means I take a whole bunch of materials about, say, a medical device, and create a voiceover script with visual implementation so that instead of sitting through a PowerPoint presentation on ankle replacement, a surgeon can use an interactive online training module to learn more about how a certain device would change the procedure.

Recipes forthcoming on the recipe blog

Kid food for lunch and snacks
Honestly, most days my kids just eat various raw fruits and veggies for lunch. Any assortment of grapes, peaches, plums, oranges, pears, apples, pomegranates, grapefruits, tomatoes, edamame, sugar snap peas, carrots, corn, beans, celery, etc. I don't think they've ever met a vegetable or fruit they didn't like, including last night's Brussels sprouts. Mostly I just cut up fruits and vegetables until they're full, and whatever they eat on a certain day depends on what I have on hand. Occasionally we will add in cheese or some bread, but mostly it's just the fruit and vegetables. They don't really like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but they do like tuna fish mixed with red onion, craisins, celery, and apples, which they call "mermaid lunch."

For snacks, if we eat crackers it's usually Goldfish, which isn't my favorite option, but it's HFCS-free. Sometimes we will bake pretzels, banana bread, or pumpkin muffins, which Jules is obsessed with. They eat a lot of raisins and craisins. And clementines.

How many boys did you kiss before Neil?
Neil was the eighth, although truth be told, I've probably kissed Isaac more in four and half months than I've kissed Neil in seven years. Which is what happens when you have a baby with ultra-chubby kissable cheeks who will giggle like crazy if you kiss him really fast all over his face. Ooh, I love those cheeks!

things I've been thinking about

**For today's picture post, scroll down.**

A few nights ago I dreamed I was back in school--law school, to be precise. I stopped in an on-campus bathroom just before going to take a final and I found Juliet in there, crying and entertaining herself with a roll of toilet paper. I quickly calmed her down and took her back to the on-site daycare center, let the employees there know what I thought of them, and rushed off to take my final. I arrived a third of the way through and spent the entire time worrying about Juliet. I couldn't answer most of the questions, despite intensive preparation and studying beforehand. I knew I was in the wrong place.

I woke up and I was so glad that this, right now, is my test. That what I'm learning about right now is being a mother, and that I'm not struggling to balance that with something else that is worthy and worthwhile but not right for me, right now.

Yesterday I was reading a talk from President Uchtdorf from the priesthood session of April conference (have you read the Conference edition yet? It is absolutely fantastic--I come away every day feeling so inspired and motivated). Two points in particular really spoke to me, since I have been worrying a lot lately about whether I am being the kind of mother that my children need right now: "Pause for a moment and check where your own heart and thoughts are. Are you focused on the things that matter most? How you spend your quiet time may provide a valuable clue. Where do your thoughts go when the pressure of deadlines is gone? Are your thoughts and heart focused on those short-lived fleeting things that matter only in the moment or on things that matter most? [. . .] We cannot and we must not allow ourselves to get distracted from our sacred duty. We cannot and we must not lose focus on the things that matter most."

I confess I am easily distracted from mothering. I struggle with balancing exercise, personal time, housecleaning, service, and even scripture time with "mothering time," or time where I am solely focused on my children and not doing anything else simultaneously. I realize that it IS important for your children to see you exercising and reading your scriptures (how else will they see the importance of developing these as habits for themselves?) and for them to pitch in and help out with housework, weeding the garden, or helping out a neighbor. But at the same time, I feel it is very important for me to spend a certain amount of time every day where I am doing nothing but reading stories to them, or sitting on the floor playing with Lincoln Logs, or at the table coloring.

This isn't something I've necessarily worked out to my satisfaction, so I'm not writing about it because I think I have the perfect solution. Yes, I am happier with how I'm spending my time than I was six months ago. And I'm also happier with how I'm spending my time than I was when I was teaching the past two semesters. I love teaching, and I certainly appreciate the extra income, but it is really nice right now to have a slower pace to our lives. I'm not perfect, and I still get frustrated with my kids all the time, and I don't always have dinner ready right when my husband gets home, and some days I opt for a nap rather than exercising, and sometimes I fall asleep before I finish saying my prayers at night.

But I'm getting there, and I'm grateful for my progress, and I'm grateful for my children and for the chance I have to be their mother. And that my job is to be their mother. And that I have a husband who supports me in this, and that I belong to a church that advocates spending your time and talents on things of eternal significance. I'm grateful that I can acknowledge that I'm not perfect, and see that as a cause for renewed determination and a chance to set new goals rather than something that is impossibly disheartening. I'm grateful for an upbringing and a church culture that has taught me to think this way.

A few weeks ago I spoke with a friend that I haven't talked to in years. Literally, it's been about ten years. She was very distraught, and in the course of our conversation she said something that really made me think--she told me that lately she only wants to talk to Mormons, because they are the happiest people she knows.

I'm so grateful for the gospel in my life. I'm so grateful that I am happy, and that I know that my beloved family is sealed to me forever, and that my future is so full of potential--or, as President Monson remarked, "the future is as bright as [my] faith."

more musings, honesty, confessions, and self-examination

This morning I started reading Jane Clayson Johnson's I Am a Mother (very kindly loaned to me by our bishop's wife). If you haven't read this, I would really recommend it, whether you're a mother or not (and that includes the gentlemen out there). Plus it has just about the cutest cover I've ever seen.

I wrote a rather whiny post awhile back after I read Johnson's article in BYU Magazine; rest assured that this post won't be like that. Basically I wanted to read this book because I'd heard a lot of wonderful things about it and I felt like I needed to give my love of motherhood/why the heck am I doing this a little jumpstart after a pretty challenging day yesterday. This book was exactly what I needed; there are tons of terrific quotes from church leaders and secular figures about the value of motherhood, in addition to Johnson's own perspective. And I've got to say I was really touched by Sheri Dew's foreword in which she notes that "mother is the word that will define a righteous woman made perfect in the highest degree of the celestial kingdom, a woman who has qualified for eternal increase in posterity, wisdom, joy, and influence. Jane Johnson is a living example of someone who believes and is acting on that principle."

I think I believe in motherhood as the most noble calling, but I don't always act as if it were, and I don't perhaps know it's the most noble calling. I'm still going on faith, and I think what I've been missing is actually acting as if I believe I'm doing the very most noble thing I can possibly be doing.

So I was really struck by this:

"Still, the sanctity of motherhood can be hard to appreciate when you spend endless hours making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, singing along with Elmo, helping create elaborate science projects, or enforcing late-night curfews. Many in the world will shout that motherhood is full of small, mundane tasks. And certainly, if you look only on the surface, this is true. But underneath all of the secondary things mothers do--cook, clean, read, chauffeur, nurse, and so on--is a mother's real occupation and, I believe, true success. Webster defines occupation as 'the principal business of one's life.' The principal business of a mother's life is loving and nurturing her children; it is teaching them, by example, how to pass on that love and thereby strenghtening the world around them" (Johnson 11).

I've written before about how I have difficulty sometimes because I don't see many tangible results of my work as a mother, so this was something that just really...hit me. It's not tangible, but the mundane tasks are simply a means to an end, not the sole focus and accomplishment. So what if I spend my days "just" doing laundry, reading stories, and cleaning up messes? In actuality, I'm doing much more than that.

I was also struck by this: "We must revere motherhood in our homes . . . if we do not, what are we teaching our daughters? How can we expect the rising generation of young women to enthusiastically embrace their futures as mothers and leaders if we are ambivalent or apologetic about our own motherhood? When mothers themselves begin to revere their callings, so much can change" (10).

I recently heard from one of my freshman roommates at BYU, who messaged me on facebook and said something about how she was impressed that I'd been teaching and that she was "just a mom." I wrote her back right away and said "You're not 'just a mom'--that's the hardest and most important thing you can be doing!" but I am still working to really take that to heart myself. I think a lot of times when I introduce myself to people I make sure to drop in there somewhere that I went to college, that I have a master's degree, that I teach/taught, etc., and while I've done that less and less lately, it still bothers me that part of me really wants to throw that out there. I think this is something that will recede gradually, as it has done thus far, and I am really working to shift my paradigms so that I can proudly answer "I am a mother!" rather than saying "Well, right now I'm home with my kids, but..."

On this note, one thing I've had a bit of an issue with is the submersion of the self I've spent twenty-odd years creating into this new persona of Mommy. So when Johnson writes "you do not lose your identity when you become a mother; you have the opportunity to more closely identify with God, to become more like Him and to enrich the lives of all who come after you" that gave me quite a bit to think about, as you can imagine.

And one more quote from Oprah Winfrey:

"I believe the choice to become a mother is the choice to become one of the greatest spiritual teachers there is. To create an environment that's stimulating and nurturing, to pass on a sense of responsibility to another human being, to raise a child who understands that he or she is created from good and is capable of anything--I know for sure that few callings are more honorable. To play down mothering as small is to crack the very foundation on which greatness stands.

The world can only value mothering to the extent that women everywhere stand and declare that it must be so. In our hands we hold the power to transform the perception of motherhood. . . . We should no longer allow a mother to be defined as 'just a mom.' It is on her back that great nations stand" (qtd Johnson 8).

I'm fortunate enough to be married to a man who probably appreciates motherhood more than I do. Many days he'll come home and I'll be wavering between tears and anger at the fact that I feel like I spent yet another day failing to do much of anything--true, I took care of the girls and made dinner and did some housekeeping chores, but nothing to compare with what he's spent all day doing. On these days, he'll fold me into his arms and say "Honey, you did the most important thing you could possibly do--you were a mom."

So as always, and I know I write about this a lot, but I'm working to be a better mother. More importantly, I'm trying to not care as much about having a clean house and more about spending quality time with the girls and enjoying their childhoods, so that I feel like I truly am nurturing their minds and spirits rather than only their bodies.

I also want you to know that I really debate writing things like this, because I keep records of all of these posts as my journal and I wasn't sure that I wanted the girls to know how much I struggle at times. But at the same time, I imagine they'll probably go through the same thing, and I want them to know that it's okay to need to work at not only being a good mom, but being happy and finding fulfillment as a good mom. So this post is for my daughters, not just now as I'm trying to improve my relationship towards them as their mother, but for the future, as they do the same for their own children.