So, I have addressed this before, but I love menu planning. I LOVE MENU PLANNING. It is weird of me. I enjoy going through cookbooks and finding recipes that I want to try. I enjoy finding recipes that use items that I regularly have in my cupboards. It is especially gratifying when I find a recipe that fits the above criteria AND my kiddos will eat! But mostly, I love menu planning because it is the answer to a lot of prayers in our family. I love being a stay at home mom. I love being the person to raise my two little monsters and I look forward to raising more kids as they join our family. The problem arises in the fact that our grocery budget is extremely small. My husband is a school teacher and doesn't make a ton of money (okay, let's be honest, even that is an overstatement). We have bills like every family. So we live frugal. Part of living frugal is menu planning. When I plan a menu, I find that I spend about $100 to $150 less a month than when I wing it.
I go grocery shopping once a month. I go grocery shopping following my menu. I don't buy extra's. I don't buy much in snacks. I save money for produce for the rest of the month. But the majority of our grocery shopping occurs in one fell swoop. I take my husband with me to make sure that we are on the same page. It sounds odd, but when either one of us go alone, we spend more money. Suddenly, that bag of chips looks really good. Those cookies are on sale. We really needed that soda. So we go together. When we have the list and both of us are on the same page, we can keep on track. I also do a TON of canning in the fall. I haven't purchased canned tomatoes since we got married. I can salsa, peaches, pears, juices, vegetables, jams, and as many other items as I can lay my hands on. It is a lot of money at one time, but I can get better quality for a lot less money. My kids love it. I love it. I always know that I have those things in my pantry. I plan a huge garden, too. If I can grow what I need to can, I didn't have to buy it. I currently have 36 tomato plants growing in my garden. They are the most expensive item I can, so if I can grow it, I just saved myself a ton of money!
Will I ever go back to the type of cooking I did before? No way. I enjoy making a menu. I enjoy not having the added stress every night of trying to figure out what's for dinner. I enjoy knowing that my family has a nice, home cooked meal every night. I even enjoy knowing that if I can't cook for some reason, my husband knows exactly where to go to find out what is for dinner. Here is how I do it:
I have made a list of recipes that I enjoy or want to try. I add new things as I find recipes that seem good. On this list, I include where the recipe is or I print out the recipe and attach it to my list. They are all together. Then, when I am ready, I pull out my spare calendar and figure out what nights I want each thing. I try to mix things up and not have too much hamburger, chicken, or any other meat all together. I take into account weekends, when sometimes I don't want to spend as much time cooking. I take into account holidays, birthdays, or church events. Those all impact my menu and budget. For example, my Handsome Hubby had his birthday last week. We had steak. That is not something I normally buy. Way too expensive for our little budget. But it is his favorite and sometimes we have to budget things like that into our menu. The same can be said about going to family events. When we go visit Grandma and Grandpa, the majority of our meals are things that I don't buy. But I do have to take into account things like taking a salad to a church party or taking a meal into someone that is sick or just had a baby. I build in two extra meals a month for that.
After I plan out my menu, I go through all the recipes and my cupboards with a fine tooth comb. I mark very clearly what I need to buy to make those meals. I also mark down anything that is getting low that I may need to replace. At the end of the shopping, if I have extra money, I will pick those up. It makes it a lot easier to make sure that I don't run out of the staples. I hate going to the store to pick up one or two things. I have never walked out without purchasing several extra items, even if it is the candy bar that I used to bribe my son into good behavior ( I know, I know. That's a whole different blog entry. I also plan out anything that I need to buy from a big store that isn't close by. When I go down to Salt Lake City, I take my trip to Costco to get the things that I can only get there. I make a list for everything!
I can't guarantee that this will work for everyone. It is a lot easier for my family right now. I have two little kids who don't eat much. When I make a meal, it usually lasts for two nights and I usually have enough left overs to send the Handsome Hubby with a nice lunch every day. Someday, this won't be the case. Someday, my kids will eat every single thing I put on the table. There will not be leftovers. But I am hoping that by making and keeping these habits now, we will be able to keep our budget reasonable. If I could convince people who are tight on money to do one thing, it would be menu planning. Try it. You might learn to like it as much as I do!
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Friday, June 28, 2013
Too Little Sleep
I love my children. I really do. I'm sure that all moms have used this as a mantra before. Today is one of those mornings for me. I sometimes wonder if I will ever get to sleep until 8 again. Or if I will ever get a whole nights sleep. But I know that someday, when my kids are all out on their own, that I will look back on this with fondness. Just not today. Today, I am exhausted and it is not even eight o'clock. We've already had breakfast and diaper changes and potty runs. G man has already built a fort in the front room. I would have thought he would have slept later since he didn't fall to sleep last night until after midnight. But no, apparently he has decided to be an early riser today.
Sometimes, as a mom, we do things out of habit. It's how we survive. We run our errands in an exhausted haze, with the hope for nap time being the only thing holding us together. We decide that it's too much energy to make our own lunch. We'll just eat whatever they don't. We throw on those yoga pants, yank our hair into a pony tail, and try to conquer our own little corner of the universe. Sometimes we are successful. Sometimes we are not. But we keep trying. That is how my day was yesterday. When the Handsome Hubby got home from work, most of the house was clean. The kids were fed and changed. I'd done a load of laundry. I'd even taken a shower. I was feeling mighty successful. Until the subject of dinner came up. There were leftovers, but they didn't sound very good. Neither did making dinner, so the leftovers won.
It must be ingrained in mothers to feel guilt. Once that child is in your arms, you feel guilty for everything. For not reading enough stories. For not making gourmet meals or even meals that they will try. For bribing our kids at the grocery store. For not reading enough books and watching too much television. For yelling at them when it is probably a teaching moment. For crying for no apparent reason. We live in a world of guilt. There is so much to do and only one of us. We have work or school or soccer games. We have more than it feels like we can carry on our shoulders. So we feel guilty. I would love to promise myself every day that the guilt won't come. It inevitably does. It's part of being a mom. I am learning to be grateful for the guilt. It means I'm striving to be better. I'm striving to be the mom my kids deserve. I'm striving to be the wife my husband deserves. At times, I'm still striving to be the daughter my parents deserve. But I'm still trying.
What a great opportunity we have every day. Every day starts fresh and clean. If today is starting off rough, tomorrow will be better. I have the chance to make it that way. I have the chance to change my life every day. I recently read another blog where they talked about being negative and the impact that it had on their life. It's true. The other truth is that we get to choose. We get to choose to look at the glass half full or half empty. We will slip up. We will fail. Trials will come and the world will not seem full of sunshine. It is up to us, however, to decide how to handle it. We can wallow in it permanently or we can take our five minutes of crying, straighten our shoulders, and try again.
So when you are having one of those, know you are not alone. When you hit your knees in prayer, feeling like there is nothing else you can do, you are not alone. There is an army of moms out there. They have t-shirts with stains on them. They have tired hair. They haven't worn makeup in a week. They pray for nap time and bedtime. But they have your back. They smile at the grocery store when your three year old throws a temper tantrum. Been there yesterday, have the trophy. Remember, you are part of a great and glorious tradition. A tradition of imperfection. None of them could do it all. You can't do it all. I most definitely can't do it all. So I'm giving myself a break today. I'm realizing that it's going to be a deep breath, counting the hours sort of day. It might be for all of us. We are not alone and if you feel like it, look around. We exhausted mothers are everywhere. If we could, we would give each other a high five, or a big hug and say "You can do it." And you can. Because you are a Mom.
Sometimes, as a mom, we do things out of habit. It's how we survive. We run our errands in an exhausted haze, with the hope for nap time being the only thing holding us together. We decide that it's too much energy to make our own lunch. We'll just eat whatever they don't. We throw on those yoga pants, yank our hair into a pony tail, and try to conquer our own little corner of the universe. Sometimes we are successful. Sometimes we are not. But we keep trying. That is how my day was yesterday. When the Handsome Hubby got home from work, most of the house was clean. The kids were fed and changed. I'd done a load of laundry. I'd even taken a shower. I was feeling mighty successful. Until the subject of dinner came up. There were leftovers, but they didn't sound very good. Neither did making dinner, so the leftovers won.
It must be ingrained in mothers to feel guilt. Once that child is in your arms, you feel guilty for everything. For not reading enough stories. For not making gourmet meals or even meals that they will try. For bribing our kids at the grocery store. For not reading enough books and watching too much television. For yelling at them when it is probably a teaching moment. For crying for no apparent reason. We live in a world of guilt. There is so much to do and only one of us. We have work or school or soccer games. We have more than it feels like we can carry on our shoulders. So we feel guilty. I would love to promise myself every day that the guilt won't come. It inevitably does. It's part of being a mom. I am learning to be grateful for the guilt. It means I'm striving to be better. I'm striving to be the mom my kids deserve. I'm striving to be the wife my husband deserves. At times, I'm still striving to be the daughter my parents deserve. But I'm still trying.
What a great opportunity we have every day. Every day starts fresh and clean. If today is starting off rough, tomorrow will be better. I have the chance to make it that way. I have the chance to change my life every day. I recently read another blog where they talked about being negative and the impact that it had on their life. It's true. The other truth is that we get to choose. We get to choose to look at the glass half full or half empty. We will slip up. We will fail. Trials will come and the world will not seem full of sunshine. It is up to us, however, to decide how to handle it. We can wallow in it permanently or we can take our five minutes of crying, straighten our shoulders, and try again.
So when you are having one of those, know you are not alone. When you hit your knees in prayer, feeling like there is nothing else you can do, you are not alone. There is an army of moms out there. They have t-shirts with stains on them. They have tired hair. They haven't worn makeup in a week. They pray for nap time and bedtime. But they have your back. They smile at the grocery store when your three year old throws a temper tantrum. Been there yesterday, have the trophy. Remember, you are part of a great and glorious tradition. A tradition of imperfection. None of them could do it all. You can't do it all. I most definitely can't do it all. So I'm giving myself a break today. I'm realizing that it's going to be a deep breath, counting the hours sort of day. It might be for all of us. We are not alone and if you feel like it, look around. We exhausted mothers are everywhere. If we could, we would give each other a high five, or a big hug and say "You can do it." And you can. Because you are a Mom.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Happy Happy Birthday
Today is the Handsome Hubby's 30th birthday. it's official. We are now in the same decade! That's what I get for being several years older than him. But he is worth it. I had a huge reminder of that today when I discovered that someone I used to be close to is going through a hard time in her life due to her marriage. It reminded me that I am blessed beyond all reason. So I am going to talk a little about that.
I didn't get married until I was 29. It wasn't that I was trying to be single. It wasn't that I had no desire to marry. It was simply that I knew what I wanted. I knew what I deserved. I wasn't going to settle for anything less. I complained a lot to my parents that I was worried that I would never get married. In fact, I think they probably felt like we were on a carousel. It was the same sob fest every time. But in my religion, most girls marry fairly young. Being single in your late twenties was not only weird, but considered rather pathetic. An example of this goes back to my senior year at Brigham Young University. I was graduating, packing up my room to leave my life in Provo, Utah (Hallelujah!) when one of my roommates came in. She was 19 years old. She looked at me and shook her head. "If I was 22 and not married, I think I would kill myself." Huh? Seriously? I was 22 years old. But I just shook my head and smiled. Wouldn't it be hard to have that mentality? As I got older, more and more people would comment on my marital state. I was told that I couldn't sit at the adult table at a family function until I could find myself a husband. I was told by a bishop that he didn't think I would ever get married because most guys don't want to marry a fat girl. I wasn't that overweight, by the way. Just a man who had an unrealistic view of how women should be. The biggest one that I heard often was that I shouldn't be so picky. Someone actually told me that "at your age, you don't have a lot of options." But they didn't know me. And they didn't know what I wanted.
If I could give any advice to my daughter, it would be this: Don't settle. Don't you dare devalue yourself like that. Don't give up on what you want just because the world would tell you that you are unrealistic. I knew what I wanted and I wanted the whole picture. I wanted a man who was was strong in the gospel. I wanted a man who was a worthy priesthood holder. I wanted a man who honored womanhood and honored me. I wanted a man who could be a provider. I wanted a man who shared my desire on having children and raising a family. I wanted a man who would lead our home in love and righteousness. I could have settled. But I would have missed out on Bruce.
Bruce and I met in a singles ward. For those of you unfamiliar with that, it is a church congregation of young single adults. It is notorious for being the meeting ground for many marriages. We fall in this category. We had known each other for two and a half years before we started dating. I will admit it: he was a nerd. But as my Mom repeatedly told me, "nerds make the best husbands." She was right, by the way. He is the first person that I could completely be myself around. He is the first person I didn't break up with at the mention of marriage. Ask my parents. That was the first sign they had that I really loved this guy. He made me happy. He made me giddy. He still does.
I know the time of day when he gets home. I would know it even without a clock. Because I still can't wait to see him. I meet him at the door with a kiss. He calls me on his lunch break. Because he misses me. I laugh at his jokes that I used to think were odd. Because I get them now. He is the person I can't imagine my life without. We have had our ups and downs. We have had times when I wanted to beat him senseless. But even with wanting to beat him, I still wanted him. He is my match. I won't say perfect, because nobody is perfect. Every single person has quirks that annoy their spouse. I am positive that my worrying drives my husband crazy. Also my apologizing constantly (it's a family thing). When I put myself down, I can sometimes see the veins popping out on the side of his neck. But he still chooses me. Every day, we wake up and choose each other. Every day we wake up excited for our lives together. Every day we choose to put our marriage first. We choose to forgive. We choose to ask for forgiveness. It is a conscious decision. We choose to ask our Heavenly Father to bless our home and our marriage. I am so grateful for that.
So, to the man who holds my heart, I say thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for being my eternal companion. I am so grateful for you. I am so grateful for the kind of man you are. I am so grateful that I didn't settle. Because the man that I got is so much better than I could have asked for. Even with his video games.
I love you, Bruce!
I didn't get married until I was 29. It wasn't that I was trying to be single. It wasn't that I had no desire to marry. It was simply that I knew what I wanted. I knew what I deserved. I wasn't going to settle for anything less. I complained a lot to my parents that I was worried that I would never get married. In fact, I think they probably felt like we were on a carousel. It was the same sob fest every time. But in my religion, most girls marry fairly young. Being single in your late twenties was not only weird, but considered rather pathetic. An example of this goes back to my senior year at Brigham Young University. I was graduating, packing up my room to leave my life in Provo, Utah (Hallelujah!) when one of my roommates came in. She was 19 years old. She looked at me and shook her head. "If I was 22 and not married, I think I would kill myself." Huh? Seriously? I was 22 years old. But I just shook my head and smiled. Wouldn't it be hard to have that mentality? As I got older, more and more people would comment on my marital state. I was told that I couldn't sit at the adult table at a family function until I could find myself a husband. I was told by a bishop that he didn't think I would ever get married because most guys don't want to marry a fat girl. I wasn't that overweight, by the way. Just a man who had an unrealistic view of how women should be. The biggest one that I heard often was that I shouldn't be so picky. Someone actually told me that "at your age, you don't have a lot of options." But they didn't know me. And they didn't know what I wanted.
If I could give any advice to my daughter, it would be this: Don't settle. Don't you dare devalue yourself like that. Don't give up on what you want just because the world would tell you that you are unrealistic. I knew what I wanted and I wanted the whole picture. I wanted a man who was was strong in the gospel. I wanted a man who was a worthy priesthood holder. I wanted a man who honored womanhood and honored me. I wanted a man who could be a provider. I wanted a man who shared my desire on having children and raising a family. I wanted a man who would lead our home in love and righteousness. I could have settled. But I would have missed out on Bruce.
Bruce and I met in a singles ward. For those of you unfamiliar with that, it is a church congregation of young single adults. It is notorious for being the meeting ground for many marriages. We fall in this category. We had known each other for two and a half years before we started dating. I will admit it: he was a nerd. But as my Mom repeatedly told me, "nerds make the best husbands." She was right, by the way. He is the first person that I could completely be myself around. He is the first person I didn't break up with at the mention of marriage. Ask my parents. That was the first sign they had that I really loved this guy. He made me happy. He made me giddy. He still does.
I know the time of day when he gets home. I would know it even without a clock. Because I still can't wait to see him. I meet him at the door with a kiss. He calls me on his lunch break. Because he misses me. I laugh at his jokes that I used to think were odd. Because I get them now. He is the person I can't imagine my life without. We have had our ups and downs. We have had times when I wanted to beat him senseless. But even with wanting to beat him, I still wanted him. He is my match. I won't say perfect, because nobody is perfect. Every single person has quirks that annoy their spouse. I am positive that my worrying drives my husband crazy. Also my apologizing constantly (it's a family thing). When I put myself down, I can sometimes see the veins popping out on the side of his neck. But he still chooses me. Every day, we wake up and choose each other. Every day we wake up excited for our lives together. Every day we choose to put our marriage first. We choose to forgive. We choose to ask for forgiveness. It is a conscious decision. We choose to ask our Heavenly Father to bless our home and our marriage. I am so grateful for that.
So, to the man who holds my heart, I say thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for being my eternal companion. I am so grateful for you. I am so grateful for the kind of man you are. I am so grateful that I didn't settle. Because the man that I got is so much better than I could have asked for. Even with his video games.
I love you, Bruce!
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Ornery Mom
Every time I have a post written, life throws an unexpected little curve ball and I don't end up posting it, either because I decide that it is too personal or because I decide that its too something or other. Yesterday was a venting one. Now, after a good nights sleep, I will change up what I write about a little.
I am an ornery Mom. Just lately. I've never been a yeller (well, since reaching adulthood. Don't talk to my parents about my teenage years. This will just dispute everything I ever write about). But lately, I seem to be on edge. Perhaps it's the potty training that has been going on for three months. We still had five accidents yesterday. That should explain that. Perhaps it is the fact that life seems to be throwing us a lot of lemons lately. I miscarried at the beginning of May and just can't seem to shake it. Everyone keeps telling me that most women go through it. I do not dispute this. But for some reason, I am really having a hard time with this. I'll be fine for a week. But then yesterday I figured out that we would know if it was a boy or girl this week if the baby had survived. It made me cry. It made me wish for someone to talk to and then it made me feel guilty.
But anyway, back to being an ornery Mom. I feel bad, but my little guy has been spending a lot of time on time-out lately. I think he is feeding off of our stress. He is such a good boy, but he has been picking on his little sister like crazy this week. Every time I turn around he is tackling her or jumping on her or pulling her off of the couch. This is probably very normal for a three year old. I just have never had a three year old. After the kids were in bed last night, I felt awful. I felt so overwhelmed with raising these two precious gifts. I felt so scared that I am messing them up irrevocably. My husband tries to remind me that I'm doing great. He comes from a family of yellers (not necessarily in anger. They are just a loud group. Let me be the first to admit, when my husband is with them, HE is the loudest.) and he is always pointing out that he and the other seven kids that are grown and out of the house are all fine and upstanding citizens. He also points out that no Mom is perfect. My mother-in-law is super woman. She raised ten kids (she is still raising the last two) and she stayed sane. Or as sane as any woman with ten kids can be. :) But he reminded me that both she and my mom had rough days where they popped in a movie and let the kids entertain themselves. He reminded me that every once and a while, it's okay to give them a cookie for breakfast and not have to fight with them. But when you are the mom going through it, you feel like a failure.
So today, I am counting my blessings. I really do understand that my kids will grow up way too fast. Pretty soon, my G man won't come up to me and say "I just love you, Mom." He won't think holding Mom's hand is the best part about going shopping with me. I love holding his hand. He is my best buddy and I can't think of anything better than getting to be his Mom. There will be a time when he will pretend he doesn't know me. There will be one morning when he wakes up and decides that cuddle time with Mommy is dumb. I don't look forward to that day. Hopefully, by then, there will be other little kids who think it still rocks. There will be a time when my Rally girl will say the dreaded words "I hate you" and my whole world will fall apart. So I am thankful for the sweet voice that hollers "Mama" until I come and get her out of her crib.
I am so grateful for eternal families. I am so thankful for having my husband by my side for eternity and not just this life. I wouldn't choose anyone else to share this journey with. I had someone tell me once that he was lazy. I can't see it. For the last three years, that man has worked two to three jobs at a time to make sure that we are taken care of. He has worked jobs that other people would think are beneath them. He has worked hours that would make people cry. Before we moved and he started teaching, there was a time when he was only getting about four hours of sleep per a night between his two jobs. He did this so that I could stay home and raise our two little munchkins. He is the hardest working man I know. Yes, when he is home, he doesn't want to necessarily weed the garden or mow the lawn. But not wanting to doesn't equate to not doing it. For that I am grateful. He is my perfect match. He is the love of my life and my best friend. At the beginning of the day, he is the person I am most excited to open my eyes and see. At the end of the night, his are the arms that I can't wait to hold me. I am so thankful that we have a partnership. I am so blessed.
For those that know my kids, they will admit that G man is all boy. He wants nothing more than to wrestle and play. He loves dinosaurs and building things and pretending to be a super hero. He got a cape for Christmas from his Aunt Krissy and I don't think he took that thing off for more than an hour or two in a week. He has been collecting rocks this week. I am so tired of finding little pebbles all over my front room floor. But it is better than the bugs he originally wanted to collect. The big nasty cricket he brought into the house almost made this mom puke. But I am thankful for his excitement over life. I am grateful that he misses his cousins and grandparents. It means he loves them. I am thankful for those sweet moments when he folds his arms, closes his eyes, and says his own big boy prayer. It means I'm not failing completely as a mother. It is one of those sweet moments in motherhood.
My Rally girl is the complete opposite of her brother. She is sugar and spice and everything nice. She is all girl. Even the way she holds her little legs when sitting in the high chair eating her breakfast is lady like. She constantly makes me laugh. She has the best smile in the world. The best kisses in the world. She thinks Mom is pretty awesome. There are moments when I wish she would let Dad be the comforter, but then her face lights up when I walk in the room and I am okay with being her favorite. Plus, then I get to brag to her dad that I am the favorite. Another blessing. :)
I am so blessed. We have each been given far more than we deserve in this life. With those blessings come trials. When I am on my knees, pleading for help, the furthest thing from my mind is my blessings. Yet my Heavenly Father, in his infinite wisdom, still sends them to me. I can never repay those or live to have earned those. I can only strive to be the woman He wants me to be. I can pray for more patience. I can pray for more peace. I can pray to get through the trials that will help me grow with grace and wisdom. One of my favorite sayings sits right above my sink. I always remember this every time it is dish time. "Blessings brighten when we count them." It is true. When I make a list of all of my blessings, I come to realize that the good in my life far outweighs the bad. I come to realize that even though we are farther from most of our family than I would like, we still have an amazing family. I have in-laws who have become my best friends. I have sisters who will cry on the phone with me. I have parents on both sides who would move heaven and earth to help us. That is pretty amazing. Most importantly, I have a Savior who is there, holding me up when I feel like I am going to fall. I have a Heavenly Father who hears and answers prayers. If they think I can do the hard things, I think that maybe I can, too.
Today, I start over again. Just like every day. And if ornery mom rears her ugly head, I can handle that too. Because my moments of pure bliss far outweigh the bad. Thank you, blessings, for reminding me of that.
I am an ornery Mom. Just lately. I've never been a yeller (well, since reaching adulthood. Don't talk to my parents about my teenage years. This will just dispute everything I ever write about). But lately, I seem to be on edge. Perhaps it's the potty training that has been going on for three months. We still had five accidents yesterday. That should explain that. Perhaps it is the fact that life seems to be throwing us a lot of lemons lately. I miscarried at the beginning of May and just can't seem to shake it. Everyone keeps telling me that most women go through it. I do not dispute this. But for some reason, I am really having a hard time with this. I'll be fine for a week. But then yesterday I figured out that we would know if it was a boy or girl this week if the baby had survived. It made me cry. It made me wish for someone to talk to and then it made me feel guilty.
But anyway, back to being an ornery Mom. I feel bad, but my little guy has been spending a lot of time on time-out lately. I think he is feeding off of our stress. He is such a good boy, but he has been picking on his little sister like crazy this week. Every time I turn around he is tackling her or jumping on her or pulling her off of the couch. This is probably very normal for a three year old. I just have never had a three year old. After the kids were in bed last night, I felt awful. I felt so overwhelmed with raising these two precious gifts. I felt so scared that I am messing them up irrevocably. My husband tries to remind me that I'm doing great. He comes from a family of yellers (not necessarily in anger. They are just a loud group. Let me be the first to admit, when my husband is with them, HE is the loudest.) and he is always pointing out that he and the other seven kids that are grown and out of the house are all fine and upstanding citizens. He also points out that no Mom is perfect. My mother-in-law is super woman. She raised ten kids (she is still raising the last two) and she stayed sane. Or as sane as any woman with ten kids can be. :) But he reminded me that both she and my mom had rough days where they popped in a movie and let the kids entertain themselves. He reminded me that every once and a while, it's okay to give them a cookie for breakfast and not have to fight with them. But when you are the mom going through it, you feel like a failure.
So today, I am counting my blessings. I really do understand that my kids will grow up way too fast. Pretty soon, my G man won't come up to me and say "I just love you, Mom." He won't think holding Mom's hand is the best part about going shopping with me. I love holding his hand. He is my best buddy and I can't think of anything better than getting to be his Mom. There will be a time when he will pretend he doesn't know me. There will be one morning when he wakes up and decides that cuddle time with Mommy is dumb. I don't look forward to that day. Hopefully, by then, there will be other little kids who think it still rocks. There will be a time when my Rally girl will say the dreaded words "I hate you" and my whole world will fall apart. So I am thankful for the sweet voice that hollers "Mama" until I come and get her out of her crib.
I am so grateful for eternal families. I am so thankful for having my husband by my side for eternity and not just this life. I wouldn't choose anyone else to share this journey with. I had someone tell me once that he was lazy. I can't see it. For the last three years, that man has worked two to three jobs at a time to make sure that we are taken care of. He has worked jobs that other people would think are beneath them. He has worked hours that would make people cry. Before we moved and he started teaching, there was a time when he was only getting about four hours of sleep per a night between his two jobs. He did this so that I could stay home and raise our two little munchkins. He is the hardest working man I know. Yes, when he is home, he doesn't want to necessarily weed the garden or mow the lawn. But not wanting to doesn't equate to not doing it. For that I am grateful. He is my perfect match. He is the love of my life and my best friend. At the beginning of the day, he is the person I am most excited to open my eyes and see. At the end of the night, his are the arms that I can't wait to hold me. I am so thankful that we have a partnership. I am so blessed.
For those that know my kids, they will admit that G man is all boy. He wants nothing more than to wrestle and play. He loves dinosaurs and building things and pretending to be a super hero. He got a cape for Christmas from his Aunt Krissy and I don't think he took that thing off for more than an hour or two in a week. He has been collecting rocks this week. I am so tired of finding little pebbles all over my front room floor. But it is better than the bugs he originally wanted to collect. The big nasty cricket he brought into the house almost made this mom puke. But I am thankful for his excitement over life. I am grateful that he misses his cousins and grandparents. It means he loves them. I am thankful for those sweet moments when he folds his arms, closes his eyes, and says his own big boy prayer. It means I'm not failing completely as a mother. It is one of those sweet moments in motherhood.
My Rally girl is the complete opposite of her brother. She is sugar and spice and everything nice. She is all girl. Even the way she holds her little legs when sitting in the high chair eating her breakfast is lady like. She constantly makes me laugh. She has the best smile in the world. The best kisses in the world. She thinks Mom is pretty awesome. There are moments when I wish she would let Dad be the comforter, but then her face lights up when I walk in the room and I am okay with being her favorite. Plus, then I get to brag to her dad that I am the favorite. Another blessing. :)
I am so blessed. We have each been given far more than we deserve in this life. With those blessings come trials. When I am on my knees, pleading for help, the furthest thing from my mind is my blessings. Yet my Heavenly Father, in his infinite wisdom, still sends them to me. I can never repay those or live to have earned those. I can only strive to be the woman He wants me to be. I can pray for more patience. I can pray for more peace. I can pray to get through the trials that will help me grow with grace and wisdom. One of my favorite sayings sits right above my sink. I always remember this every time it is dish time. "Blessings brighten when we count them." It is true. When I make a list of all of my blessings, I come to realize that the good in my life far outweighs the bad. I come to realize that even though we are farther from most of our family than I would like, we still have an amazing family. I have in-laws who have become my best friends. I have sisters who will cry on the phone with me. I have parents on both sides who would move heaven and earth to help us. That is pretty amazing. Most importantly, I have a Savior who is there, holding me up when I feel like I am going to fall. I have a Heavenly Father who hears and answers prayers. If they think I can do the hard things, I think that maybe I can, too.
Today, I start over again. Just like every day. And if ornery mom rears her ugly head, I can handle that too. Because my moments of pure bliss far outweigh the bad. Thank you, blessings, for reminding me of that.
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