Let The Ache Pass

"He nods, as if to acknowledge that endings are almost always a little sad, even when there is something to look forward to on the other side." -Emily Griffin

A friend posted this story on Facebook this morning. It's written by a woman dealing with that aching feeling that comes to so many women when they have decided that their family is complete and that there will be no more babies. I remember that ache. 

sarahbessey.com/learning-live-ache/

I remember sobbing when I had to quit breast-feeding my fourth baby because of health problems that could only be controlled with steroids. But I comforted myself with the fact that there would be another baby, that this would not be the last time I ever nursed a baby. When the health problems continued and required more drastic measures to control, Neil and I were forced to make a decision. Was it better to have four kids and a mom, or five kids and no mom? There would be no more babies.

I went through a mourning process. I ached when I thought about what I would do when the next batch of babies came into the family, and I wasn't included in the excitement. I ached when I put the baby clothes away for the last time. I ached when I gave away our crib. I ached when I held other people's babies. 

As with all pain and loss, whether the loss of a loved one or the loss of a loved phase in our lives, God has made time the great healer. With time, I quit mourning the loss of that cherished phase of my life. With time, the ache passed.

As one who has lived to tell the tale, I am here to say that there is life after babies. There is life after childbirth, and night feedings, and sleeping babies on our chests. And believe it or not, big kid beautiful is as amazing as baby beautiful.

Yes, there will be no more snuggling up to your baby as he nurses or slurps his bottle with feverish abandon. But there will be lively conversations around the dinner table, conversations full of wit and sarcasm and even depth at times. There will be those nights where dinner lasts two hours because your big kids have so much to talk about, and you're too busy laughing and discussing to bother with dishes or homework.

There will be no more precious alone time with your baby during night feedings, but there will be late night chats that prove just as precious. When once you were exhausted from getting up in the middle of the night with your baby, you will now be exhausted from waiting up for your teenager to come home from her date.

I know you can't imagine making dinner without a baby on your hip. But there will come a time that when you go into the kitchen to make dinner, the eleven year old offers to cook the tortillas while the 15 year old offers to shred the chicken, and the 13 year old starts setting the table, and dinner prep wasn't even drudgery because you had all kinds of company in the process.

I know that having your baby unload the dishwasher as you're trying to load it is just about the cutest thing. But there will come a day that you have to rush off to pack meeting after dinner, and you ask the teenagers to do the dishes while you're gone, and your daughter replies, "Don't worry Mom, I gots this!" And you come home, and the kitchen is all clean. You may decide that that truly is the cutest thing.

Your heart might ache at the thought of not seeing formula cans in the cupboard or burp clothes on the sofa, but I assure you that that will all disappear when you can call up your 17 year old and say, "Hey, will you grab some milk on your way home from work, oh and a loaf of bread, and maybe a box of cereal for the morning? Thanks!"

I know that you can't imagine your life without the coos of your little one. But the first time you actually find one of your kids' jokes funny, is a great day! And there may come a time that you have to make sure you always have a drawer full of clean underwear because there's no telling when your teenager will have you in side-splitting, hold-your-knees-together, try-not-to-blow-milk-out-your-nose guffaws.

Yes, you will miss watching the wonder of your baby experiencing life for the first time. But I can't describe what it is like when your children start bringing new ideas to your mind and when they open up whole new worlds of music and literature to you. When you start learning from your children, a new layer of parenting begins. 

When once you cheered them on when rolling over for the first time, you will now cheer them on for that soccer goal or nailing that concerto or that lead part in the school play. It's just as exhilarating, I promise. 

Maybe you'll miss packing a diaper bag. But that first time that all you have to do is yell, "Everyone get in the van!" And five minutes later you're off…you may not miss the ol' diaper bag so much.

When you give up Teletubbies and Thomas the Train, and the kids are actually interested in the same movies you are, that's a great day. When your fifteen year old is just as disgruntled as you are that Great Expectations or Book Thief weren't shown at any of the local theaters, you know you've arrived. 

You'll miss toy time on the floor. But a mean game of Scrabble or Sorry around the kitchen table can make for a pretty good substitute.

You'll miss the little ones under foot, but one day you'll realize that that day you brought babies into the world, you were actually creating for yourself built-in, life-time friends and that the older they get, the more evident that becomes.

Sarah Bessey mentioned accepting and living with the ache of no more babies. And I agree. Accept it. Live with it…for now. But I have found that in most cases, when God creates a void, he often finds something beautiful to fill it with. So when time begins to apply its healing balm, let it work its magic, don't fight it. Let the ache pass. For in its place the beauty of raising big kids will unfold, and you'll find yourself loving it and never wishing to go back.

The author mentioned that having babies means that you will never sleep-in again. Here's a little secret…There will come a day that you will sleep-in again. When you and your teenagers drag yourselves out of bed at 10:00, and there you stand in your sweats, a little bit sleepy and a little bit hungry, and you say, "Should we go to Kneaders for french toast?" and your teenager yells "YOLO!" and you hop in the van and go, you will wonder why you ever mourned.

Confessions Of A Mediocre Mom

"It is not until you become a mother that your judgement slowly turns to compassion and understanding." -Erma Bombeck

• I breastfed and bottle fed all of my babies.
• My boys slept in their car seats until they were old enough to launch themselves out of them at nap time. (Why neither of them have flat heads is really a wonder.)
• I put sugar in my babies' rice cereal to make it palatable. 
• None of my kids were potty-trained before three years old.
• I never did the whole time-out thing very well. I felt more punished than they did, trying to get them to stay in that dang naughty chair. I don't think I've ever really grounded my children either. Once again, who are we punishing here, the child or the mother? Did they have any consequences, you ask? I don't know, I sent a good stern glance their direction once or twice. That counts for something.
• My kids ate chicken nuggets for lunch pretty much everyday, until they started school.
• None of my children attended preschool.
• Most of my children have eaten school lunch for most of their  school lives.
• None of my kids knew all of their letters before starting kindergarten. (I thought that was what kindergarten was for.)
• I've never been an uber volunteer mom. I try to volunteer for at least one classroom party and one field trip for each kid each year. You won't see me in the classroom twice a week.
• I don't cook near as often as a stay-at-home mom should. The fact that I can mention just about any restaurant and have each of my children say, "Just get me the regular", is kind of a problem.
• Around my oldest child's 12th birthday, I realized that not a single one of my children had taken a single swimming lesson in their whole lives. None of them could swim. I did remedy that situation:)
• I get a pit in my stomach when science fair projects come home. I discourage my junior high kids from taking honors science because it requires a science fair project.
• I get a pit in my stomach when county reports come home.
• I get a pit in my stomach when creative book reports are due.
• We don't eat organic food, unless it happens to be the same price as the regular poison food.
• I don't do crazy hair day or silly sock day or other such nonsense.
• I use idle threats and empty promises as a parenting tactic on an almost daily basis. Neither have proven effective, but perhaps I just haven't been consistent enough. 
• All of my children's Halloween costumes have been store-bought. In seventh grade, I cut them off. No more Halloween costumes. If they want to dress up, they have to figure it out for themselves.
• I think we've carved pumpkins about five times in all of my kids' lives.
• I put sugar in my cereal. My husband puts sugar in his cereal. All of my children put sugar in their cereal. Yep. Just pure white granulated kill-you-before-you're-thirty C&H pure cane sugar.
• I encouraged my senior to take nothing but fluff classes this school year. No math. No chemistry. No physics. No biology. Meteorology! Film History! Drawing! That's what I'm talkin' about.
• I tried being in the PTA for awhile. I was basically an absentee member who couldn't be counted on to follow through with anything. I'm no longer a member of the PTA.
• We have family scripture study about twice a week.
• All of my children's Faith in God, Scout achievements, Personal Progress, have been done in a crazed last minute cram session.
• I write all of my children's primary talks in sacrament meeting.
• My son walked around with a hole in the sole of his shoe for a month. He didn't want to tell me. Didn't want to deal with a grumbling mother I suppose.
• A sentence that comes out of my mouth at least once a week: "When was the last time you showered?"

I could go on and on and on. But I won't. I wouldn't want readers to get too inflated of an ego. The funny thing is that the Lord continues to allow me to raise these sweet little spirits. And the even crazier thing is that these children all seem to be fairly happy well-adjusted individuals. Who knew?!

An Evening of Waltzes

"You need to think hard about what it is you really value, which direction is right for you…students now live in such a blur of activity that idle moments for such introspection are vanishing." -Harvard Magazine

Jessica is over-scheduled this school year. Being a member of two youth symphonies, working 25 hours a week, taking and teaching cello lessons, has all become too much. She approached me a few weeks ago informing me that something needed to go and that she felt like Utah Youth Symphony was probably that thing. She felt like she could do without driving all the way up to the University of Utah campus every Saturday for a three hour rehearsal only to rush home in just enough time to work an eight hour shift. 

She had a valid point. I've been watching her burn the candle at both ends since October and wondering how long she could carry on like that. I encouraged her to at least attend the first concert, something she wasn't really planning on doing. She had put in all of the hours of rehearsal. Why not enjoy the fruits of her labor? Besides, not many 17 year old kids get the chance to perform in the tabernacle. I'll admit, my motives were somewhat selfish. How many moms get to watch their 17 year old perform in the tabernacle?

Whether she did it for herself or for me, I'm not sure, but I'm thrilled that she went ahead and attended the performance. Mom and Tony were excited to come along. You would think that I could get one picture without these goofballs making faces, but I forget who we're talking about here.

Jessica texted us and told us where to sit so that we could see her. She was in the back, so balcony seats were best. Then she texted us to inform us that she had almost run into our favorite organist. I asked her if she got Mr. Elliot's autograph and complimented him on his knock-your-socks-off rendition of Flight of the Bumblebee on the organ at the Christmas concert? She had not been so bold.

I behaved and took not a single photo during the event. It was a delightful concert. We were graced with an evening of waltzes. They played waltzes from Sleeping Beauty, Nutcracker, and Swan Lake. These famous waltzes are always overshadowed by the dancers, but the pieces really can stand on their own. It was lovely just to focus on the music and the musicians, and they were top-notch musicians. Mom was shocked that music of such a caliber came from teenagers, and that this was a free event! It's a shame that it wasn't a packed house.

Once I got the all-clear from the cute little tabernacle volunteers, I turned into the mommy paparazzi, found a great spot for a good shot, and clicked photos to my heart's content.

I'm glad Jessica had this opportunity. It will be one of those things she looks back on with fondness. That semester that she trekked up to the university every saturday and sat in a room of prodigies and played under the tutelage of a member of the Utah Symphony. That day she got to play some of the most beautiful music ever written, in one of the most beautiful venues in Utah,  with some of the most beautiful acoustics ever created. I know that I'll be tucking it into my private folder of pay-off mother moments.

Some Photos - Just Because I Love Them

"The good things that you've got are for many just a dream, so be thankful for the good things that you've got." 

These are some pictures that I love that I haven't gotten around to posting. There is no real rhyme or reason to them except that they are of the people I love.

This is the headshot I took of Jessica for her bio that will appear in the program for the next Davis Youth Symphony concert. She will be a featured soloist for this concert. She will be playing the Haydn Concerto, a piece that has been her constant companion these many months. She is working like mad to get it memorized for the concert, and for scholarship auditions three days before. I am so happy for her and so nervous for her! These are the kinds of things you dream of for your children when they are tiny, not realizing how absolutely nerve-wracking they can be for a parent. But it's the best kind of nerve-wracking.

Grandpa's houses with a gully for a backyard make the best kind, especially in the winter. I didn't see these kids for three hours this particular wintry afternoon.

There's that cute senior again all dolled up for cotillion. She insisted on getting a few shots in her arctic snow hat and boots. The kid has plenty of her dad in her.

Eventually she lost the hat, although I totally could have seen her wearing it to the dance.

Don't you think she looks like she belongs in a Frozen movie or something? Yet another moment you dream of as you hold your newborn baby girl. It all comes too quickly.

There is one cute couple right there. One thing you're never quite ready for is that first boy that comes along and steals your daughter's heart. But you're so grateful when he is a fine young man who treats your little girl with the utmost respect.

Sigh.

Hmmm. That's kind of cool. Good job, Google.

Jessica's favorite Christmas present this year was a record player. You can imagine her absolute jubilation when Grandpa appeared out of the basement with his record collection. Frank Sinatra, Benny Goodman, a whole array of classical records. The girl was beside herself. She spent the rest of the day snuggled up on the floor listening to old records. 

Two days later, she was off to Salt Lake to invest in some of her own records. Most teenagers know how to conjure up all of their music for free, but not this girl. She would prefer to spend a hundred dollars on vinyl. "The sound quality is so much better," Jessica says. Isn't it funny how the young love the novelty of old technology? Unfortunately, you can't plug your record player into your car or take it on a walk with you. I think we'll get her a phonograph next. I'm kind of not kidding.

We rung in the new year with a combined baptism for these two cutie-patooties who were born just two weeks apart. We're thrilled to death that Steve and Vye moved back to Utah in time for Kaleb's baptism. My favorite was when Mom was giving the talk about baptism and was talking about the importance of keys. She asked what you do when you get home and realize the door is locked. Kaleb burst out, "You break in!" That's one way to get yourself into the kingdom of God. The other way is to enter the waters of baptism, which was so precious to watch these two do.

Look at that batch of future missionaries! It never fails. No matter how you pound into your children the importance of not running in the Lord's house, when you have the entire building to yourself, the children can't help but run the halls like banshees. That would explain Jonah's red cheeks in the picture below. 

But don't worry. They're consciences caught up with them. I overheard the group discussing how they weren't going to run through the Lord's house anymore. Collin exclaimed with relief, "Yah, it's a good thing I'm not baptized yet!" Phew. He figures he's got a good two months of mischief to enjoy before he gets washed clean in March. It sounds like he plans to capitalize on that. As for the others, including the newest baptized cousins who only lasted one hour before they succumbed to the urge to make a less than ideal choice, that is the beauty of the Atonement. Repentance is a beautiful thing. It wipes away the most grievous of sins as well as the minor running-through-the- church-halls infractions. May that be the worst this little band of future elders ever has to worry about. 

Oh, To Be a Queen - NO THANKS!

"If we have committed faults, we have certainly expiated them." -Marie Antoinette October 1790

I just finished a great book: Marie Antoinette, The Journey by Antonia Frasier. After visiting Versailles, the place a young 14 year old bride-to-be and future queen was introduced to and spent most of her years in, and the Conciergerie, the place the not-so-young once-Queen of France spent her final weeks,I had to learn more about her life. She is one of the most infamous figures in French history, and yet I knew very little about her. The book was well-written. I read it as I do most books. I read a few chapters, then put it down for a few weeks. Then read a few more chapters and put it down for a week and started another book. Then I picked it up yesterday, intending to read a chapter or two and didn't put it down or leave the couch until I had devoured the last 100 pages. I had to find out how it ended. I mean, I knew how it ended, but I had to really find out how the French people came to that ferocious point of beheading their queen.

I often say that real life is always better than fiction. I have come to that conclusion after reading so much history. I finished this book with a profound sense of sadness for the sufferings of this mother and her family. There are a few things that I learned after reading this very tragic story.

Number One: It was really no blessing to be born a female into royalty. These poor young girls were nothing but political pawns, ripped from their families at very tender ages, whisked off to foreign countries to marry a complete stranger, never to see their beloved country or family again. Their chief responsibility was to provide a male heir, something these women had pretty much zero control over. Yet it was somehow her fault if a healthy baby boy wasn't brought into the world nine months after marrying the future king. They were often forced to marry cousins, even first cousins quite often, so no wonder their children were always so sickly. If you marry someone with virtually the same gene pool as you, your children are bound to inherit diseases like tuberculosis. All but one of her children were sickly little things who died at young ages. What a cursing to have been born into royalty in the 1700's!

Number Two: Mob mentality is a scary thing. It makes people do awful things that they wouldn't normally do.

Number Three: Except for in extreme cases (i.e. Hitler), it is extremely simple-minded to blame an entire nation's troubles on one man or woman. France was suffering economic strife, due to the climate, as well as the decisions of kings long since dead to fight in various wars and aid budding new democracies fighting  tyrannical leaders (namely, America). Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were actually one of the more mild monarchies that France had seen. Though Marie Antoinette had her faults, being a sheltered, silly, and poorly educated girl when she married Louis, in her later years, she had more concern for the poor and more modesty in her spending than did past queens and those of other countries. But France needed a scapegoat. They needed someone to blame for all of their woes. The various groups of fighting revolutionists needed something that would unite them. Marie Antoinette's head was that thing. She was brought into that country for political reasons. She was torn out of that country and out of this life, for political reasons. 

Governneur Morris commented drily to Thomas Jefferson, "To a person less intimately acquainted than you are with the History of human affairs, it would seem strange that the mildest monarch who ever filled the French throne...should be prosecuted as one of the most nefarious Tyrants that ever disgraced the Annals of human nature." 

That is what happens when reason gives way to desperation and vengeful hateful thoughts. 

Of course my whole family was graced with an hour long discussion of all the woes of King Louis XVI and his poor poor wife. They were warned of the dangers of mob-like mentality and how unfair it is to blame any and all of this countries problems on Obama considering there are so many others who help make decisions in this country. To demonize one man because of our discontent is simple-minded and just plain wrong. Then our discussion turned to the many wives of Henry VIII as well as the various queens of England after his death, as Sabrina has been doing research for her novel which takes place in Europe. It would be difficult to find a batch of children who understand European history better than my children, thanks to the rantings of their dear mother every time she's finished another dry history book. I can see their eyes roll as I slap shut another 500 page book with a sigh and begin editorializing. 

I feel more informed for reading this book. I feel like I understand this highly misunderstood queen just a bit better. Now to go find me a book that will shed some light on this French Revolution, as I found myself constantly asking, "Now they're mad at the king why? And why was it they hated Marie Antoinette so much? Why is everyone going on killing rampages?"

Oh, and I better go order the movie on Netflix.

Christmas Eve Part Two

"Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"
-Dr. Seuss

After dinner, we scooted all of the grandchildren out of the room so that the adults could exchange gifts. We are all generally too broke to exchange gifts as siblings, but Leslie came up with the idea of having a "Favorite Things" gift exchange this year. So we each wrapped our favorite thing, and we played a little dice game to see who ended up with what present. Then we had to guess who's favorite thing we had just opened. It was so fun!

A Rubik's Cube=John's favorite thing & fuzzy socks with cute pens and a notebook=Leslie's favorite thing(She's a list girl)

Was I the only one who said a short prayer of gratitude when I saw that Raspberry Zingers were back on the shelves? Some delicious scented handsoap=Vye's favorite thing.

A puzzle. We all knew that was Mom's, but it came with a bonus...$10.00 cash, because one of Mom's favorite things is to surprise people with a little money. iTunes gift card=Angie's favorite thing because she didn't know what else to get, and she really does like music.

Dill Pickle sunflower seeds and Lemonheads=Ryan's favorite thing

My mind is drawing a blank here, but I'm pretty sure the European chocolate was Steve's favorite thing and the salsa was Rich's.

The Murphy Oil Soap=Tracie's favorite thing, and Vye opened a teeny tiny box that included a post it note that said: "My favorite thing is blow-molded plastic." I'll give you one guess who's gift that was. Vye was a little bit confused for a second. "Neil, you were supposed to actually buy your favorite thing as a gift not just hand someone a note informing them what your favorite thing was!" Never fear. A cute little children's picnic table was sitting in the back of our van.

Salt & Pepper Kettle chips with delicious flavored water=Alicia's favorite thing & Sudoku Puzzles=Grandpa's favorite thing.

Then we gave Mom and Tony their present. About 25 or so years ago, Mom wrote a list of three things she dreamed of doing. Only one item remains on the list, so we pooled our money together and got them all the things necessary to go for a horse-drawn sleigh ride. Now Mom will have to come up with a new list.

That Shrek The Bells movie, intended to ward off the kids, only lasted 30 minutes. By now the children were clamoring all over the adults begging us to let them open a gift. So Mor Mor got out her handmade gifts. She bought each of the grandkids a new pillow and sewed a darling Christmas pillowcase for each one, then included a new book. If there is any wonder where my love for reading came from, let this be a clue.

Now the grandchildren were dying to open their Christmas Eve pajamas. Only a slice of Pulla could calm their anticipation.

There comes a time in every teenager's life that they think all things toddler are the coolest things ever. Apparently my daughters have arrived at that point. Not even little Molly and Eli got footie pajamas this year, but Sabrina and Jessica couldn't be more thrilled over their sock monkey footies.

It wouldn't be Christmas Eve without a photo of all the grandkids posed in their brand new jammies. This may be the first year that we didn't have at least one crying baby in the shot.

And now they all had new pillows to put their little heads down on so that visions of sugar plums could dance uninhibited. Right up until the very hour families were walking out the door and as the children got tireder and whinier, parents were warning that Santa could turn his sleigh around at any point. He could sense the naughtiness even while en route. But do you think you could spot even one naughty soul amongst these precious little faces? I assure you, Santa made it to every house this Christmas season.

Under the Weather

"Tis' healthy to be sick sometimes." -Henry David Thoreau

It seems I have contracted a killer gomboo that has rendered me completely incapacitated. I've smothered myself in every oil I own: Melaluca, Peppermint, Breathe, On-guard like it's suntan lotion. But to no avail. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we just get sick. In the case of super viruses like this one, you have no choice but to wait them out. So here I sit. I can't taste. I can't hear properly. I feel and maybe even look like one of those little Play-doh guys that you sit on a chair and all of this crap comes oozing out of every opening in his poor little noggin'. I think the children think I'm dying. I think I might think I'm dying, or just wish I was dying. Maybe tomorrow I will regain my will to live. For now, I keep uttering, "Please Lord, just take me now." 

Perhaps that is why we are allowed to get sick. So that when our sense of taste and hearing and breathing ability return, we are so darn grateful. So grateful that the Lord allows us every day to taste and hear and breathe. It's a beautiful thing. Hey, I must be getting a little better. I did pull myself out of my Nyquil-induced stupor long enough to write this post, and I don't even feel like passing out. This is more than could be said of the last four days. Maybe I'll write again, in a few days, when I'm feeling better. If you don't hear from me, it's possible that the Lord got sick of listening to my constant whinings and pleadings and finally put me out of my misery. If this be the case, in lieu of flowers please send money to my children's college fund. I'll go start one right now so that you have somewhere to send the money. Never mind. I'll just lie here and blow my nose.