Don't Quit author unknown

A buddy of one of my teenagers once said, "Stoker's are good at the weird sports."  The main reason for this is that we're not very competitive in the normal sports, but we like sports so we find something else to play.

One of the "weird" sports that son #2 chose to join was Cross Country.  I knew nothing about it although I had seen a bunch of skinny kids running in the street before.  Now one of those kids was mine.  This child started saying things like, "I don't eat sausage."  "I don't drink soda."  "I need more vegetables."  Cross Country really got interesting when I went to my first meet.  All the parents, supporters, and runners were out in a field.  The race started and soon the runners were out of sight.  Then the spectators ran to a pre-appointed spot where we got another glimpse of the race.  We cheered when the runners went by. One man encouraged the runners in a loud clear voice, "You got this!  Stay strong!  You're doing great!"  It helped me, so I"ll bet it helped them.   Some spectators found the next spot, I missed it and headed to the finish.  We were excited for the winner, but we were just as excited, maybe more, for the runner coming in last.  Their run was harder so the finishing seemed more glorious.  All the runners came in spent.  They were so exhausted, some threw up.  Brandon explained that there was no shame in this.  The object of the game was to "Leave it all out there."

There was one race that I'll never forget.  I was standing with the other spectators at the finish of a girls race.  The runners had started to come in.  One girl came running towards the finish line, faltered and then fell.  Adults (parents, coaches?) rushed to her aid.  She tried to stand and shake off the help.  She wasn't quitting.  She took a few trembling steps and fell again.  I watched this courageous little high school athlete crawl across the finish line.  Tears streamed down my face as I comprehended determination and heart and discipline like never before.

Life gets hard and sometimes it hurts to grow, but confidence comes from doing hard things and so does strength.  Daughter #1 decided she wanted to learn to ride a bicycle.  I helped her sometimes, but more often than not she was out with her bike and helmet starting by the curb, riding a ways, falling, starting again, repeating until she was a rider for realsies.  When my youngest began to walk he would start by the couch, head to the loveseat, stumble a few feet in, crawl to the starting point and head to the loveseat again.  At the time we laughed because he wouldn't quit.  I don't laugh now.  These children had the perfect formula for success.  Set your goal, head in that direction,  and start again after every stumble until you finish.

Daughter #2's teacher introduced her class to a poem, "Don't Quit"  author unknown. I loved it so much that when my youngest was assigned to memorize a poem I encouraged him to choose it.  The process mirrored the message.  It was a big undertaking.  He memorized a stanza at a time.  Sometimes he'd forget a line, and then start at the beginning.  We worked on it in the car, waiting for the bus, before going to bed.  Sometimes he said "I'm sick of "Don't Quit,"  but it was a proud day when he recited it in class.  And I hope we always remember:


                              DON'T QUIT

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up though the pace seems slow--
You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than,
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up,
When he might have captured the victor's cup,
And he learned too late when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out--
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far,
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit--
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
- Author unknown

Saved by Motherhood

There have been times, not a few, when I thought I was really doing God a favor by raising 9 children. But I have discovered something He has always known.  He was doing me the favor by sending them to me.  Motherhood changed me, and in many ways saved me.

I was reading in my journals that I had written through the years, and it was a little painful.  I don't really like the person I was in my twenties as much as the person I am in my fifties.  I know there are lots of ways to change and it usually involves recognizing the need, making the effort, and trusting in God.  I just feel like for me, motherhood was a very effective tutorial.

In my early years I seemed to spend more time thinking about how others needed to change.  As time went on my focus became more on how I needed to change.  When I was in college and knew everything about parenting, I had all these judgmental little thoughts, "My child will never suck their thumb."  "You actually let your child eat out of the kitchen?"   "You know, hot dogs aren't a food."  "Well, if you weren't so permissive, your child would be more obedient." " My child will never talk to me like that."  And my favorite, "Your teenager did what?  Just tell them not to."  Well, as everyone has already guessed, I ate every word.  I ate every  parenting word.  And that is the beauty of it.  Now I'm not saying it's not good to have a plan, it's important to be as prepared as possible.  Just know that being flexible is an important quality and be open to adjusting the plan as the new situations arise, like every hour.

For one thing, motherhood is hard, and did you know that when a child comes to you they're yours forever?  Baby's cry, and two-year olds have tantrums, and 5 yr. olds don't really stop talking.  7 yr. olds run away when they get mad at you, and 12 yr. olds tell lots of jokes that aren't funny.  Fifteen yr. olds do what they want and 18 year olds leave you. On top of this they need to be fed, every day. This means when I became a mother I could no longer just do a little good for society and then reward myself the rest of the day.  I was on duty all the time.  I had to help these people feel love and learn about God and come to understand the importance of obedience, education, sharing, etiquette, sacrifice, work, self-control, selflessness...  Then a weird thing happened, while I was teaching I was learning.

Motherhood brought a lot of surprises.  I was the oldest of 10 and had loved a lot of babies, but I was still surprised at the feeling I had when I first held my newborn.  This love that people write about, the "I'll give you everything, can't get enough of you, die for you" feeling was here to stay.  Another surprise came when my first born left home.  He was definitely ready to leave and may or may not have been ornery in the weeks preceding his departure.  I remember thinking, "Yeah, it's time."  The surprise came the moment he got on the plane.  That day and  practically every day after for about a year I cried when I thought about him.  I wondered, "Do you mean all the moms of college freshman around the world are ready to burst into tears all the time?  Who knew?"

In the April 2011 General Conference Lynn G. Robbins said, "A sweet and obedient child will enroll a father or mother only in Parenting 101.  If you are blessed with a child who tests your patience to the nth degree, you will be enrolled in Parenting 505.  Rather than wonder what you might have done wrong in the premortal life to be so deserving, you might consider the more challenging child a blessing and opportunity to become more Christlike yourself.  With which child will your patience, long-suffering, and other Christlike virtues most likely be tested, developed and refined?  Could it be possible that you need this child as much as this child needs you?"

Now I'd say that each child has their 101 moments and their 505 moments, but frankly I've had my moments too.  Some days my kids are enrolled in the "Patient and Grateful Child-101"   and others days the  "Forgive your Crazy Mother- 505." Lets just say home is a great place to learn and grow and change.

Maybe sleep is not important since none of the children want any.

Is it bedtime yet?  Well, it depends on who's asking: tired mom? of course: crying baby? tantruming toddler? exhausted young child? never! When I was in first grade we were herded into the gym every day after lunch where we would lie on our nap mats (towels) for approximately 100 hours (or maybe 30 minutes) for nap time.  Were they serious?  We were supposed to sleep on a wood floor in close proximity to 60 other wiggly and very awake 5 year-olds?  Ridiculous.  Never one to be idle,  I used this time to practice crossing my eyes.  My mom said they might stick if I crossed them.  Well, I had to know for sure, but first I needed to learn how.  I became very adept at my eye crossing skills, even using them to enhance my conversation, so I'm not saying the time was wasted, but I didn't sleep a wink...and my eyes didn't stay that way...yet.

I realize now that the adults in charge were not punishing us, they were trying to give us one of the most precious of gifts...sleep.  In visiting families with children and having raised  my own I am realizing that we are failing in our marketing of this rare commodity to our society's young.  We know what sleep deprivation feels like with the hunger for something, is it food? no that's not it, it's something deeper.  We recognize that when  "Life is just too hard," "I don't like anyone," "I can't be happy," "I have a little sore throat," and "Why can't I remember anything?" a nice, good sleep could make all the difference. 

 We love our children and want them to be happy and brave and civil and sane and so we attempt to give them this gift, but do they want it?  You all know the answer to that.  We should just turn on the old video camera every night at bedtime and post on Facebook the next day so everyone would know that their children aren't the only ones coming out 4 and 5 and 6 times a night with requests for water, food, kisses, hugs, lights on, lights off, doors open, doors shut,  Dolly and Bear's water, food, kisses, hugs, lights on, lights off, doors open, doors shut.  They appeal to our compassion with "I'm hot, I'm scared, my mosquito bites itch, my blankets are crooked, my brother/sister is kicking, jumping, poking, hurting, breathing."

There must be a way for them to know the great opportunity at hand when we offer them a beautiful mid-day nap or a cozy nightly tuck-in to their soft bed with nice sheets and a pillow.  They can just close their little eyes and rest.  Maybe we could point out the teenagers in the world who gladly sleep anywhere anytime, okay not at night, but all the other times. What about the poor children in Africa who would give anything for an early bed time? I always thought that the fact that my children's nighttime requests were always met with a not very nice mommy response would deter them. Au contraire. I believe they thought it was funny.  "It's boring in our beds.  Lets watch Mom get crazy when we come out."

I just read a study about the importance of a consistent bedtime for children, and we all know that young children need 10 hours and babies 15 hours of sleep per day.  So we will continue in our efforts to get children sleeping, but if you're wondering if you're the only house with bedtime stall rituals, know that you're not.

So, now I love my body.

I don't know if I've been organizing pictures because I blog or blogging because I've been organizing pictures, but either way I've been finding some great pics that I don't remember seeing before. One picture I found a couple of weeks ago kind of started a tantrum.  The contrast between 20 year old me and 50 year old me did not make me very happy.  I was mad...mad because I didn't appreciate what I had when I was twenty, and mad because I had aged just like I said I wouldn't.  I was mad at my body.

I was carrying on with this sulking and pouting in my mind as I sat in church choir, and then I had an epiphany.  I'm going to go so far as to say an inspiration. (That's why I go to church choir.) The thought came  that my body had done amazing things for me.  It had married my husband and born my children and basically given me all the people I love best.  It takes me on walks and drives me on road trips.  It learns new things and gets me out of tight spots.  It works if I tell it to and heals itself.  It dances and sings and finds things to laugh at and then laughs...long.  It sleeps and eats delicious foods and then eats again...my favorite.  It can read and write and play some musical instruments.  I'll bet if  it practiced more often it would play better.  It sweats when I'm hot and shivers when I'm cold and breathes even when I don't tell it to.  It sees, hears and loves beauty.  Sometimes it forgets, but sometimes it remembers.

 So now, I love my body.  I want to be good to it because it has been good to me.  I know it will die sometime, and it's getting older.  But if it's getting tired and showing some wear and tear inside and out, so what?  If it's preparing for old age by storing fat in unattractive places, fine.  It's been serving me for over 50 years. I can't say the same about my dishwasher, or car or i phone or other amazing machines. God gave me a  gift and I need to be more thankful. 

So today if we go shopping lets not pout if the dress looks different than on the hanger. We aren't shaped like air and gravity. We're shaped like life.

So you have a little boy.

If you are the mother of a son or sons you are probably feeling very blessed, but maybe a little confused and slightly overwhelmed. Just like Dads need to use their imagination to understand their daughters, it may take a while to "get" the male brain-a while as in years and years-but here are some secrets to help you break the code.

1. Boys like explosions. Here are some examples of real life explosions. Brother sits behind sister in double stroller. He isn't even old enough to talk but reaches out and pulls her hair. She screams. He smiles. He reaches out and pulls her hair again. She screams...repeat. Mom wonders why little brother would be so mean. He is not mean. He's bored. Did you see that awesome sister explosion when her hair got pulled? Mission accomplished.  Little boy takes the cereal box and pours it all on the floor. Mom starts to yell and then catches herself to use her best parenting skills to talk about motives, consequences, etc. On the next day little boy pours the oil on the floor, similar scenario. Mom wonders, "Why does he keep doing this? We know why. Boys like explosions. They would rather knock the blocks down than build them, they would rather watch their siblings react than live in peaceful boredom, they would rather make a run for the front of the church and be chased by their parent than sit painfully on the pew.  There is no law more intriguing than cause and effect. That's why a little boy would turn on a resting cookie dough beater. Did you see that dough fling all over the kitchen? It was amazing, cleaning up not so much, but worth it. For mom, this knowledge may not make the explosions any more convenient, but it does make them funnier.

2. Boys like to be the hero. They have heroes-Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Iron Man, Captain America, and Dad. They don't like to get bossed around because heroes don't get bossed around, but they don't mind saving the day. So I guess this translates into two actions. Present instructions as choices. "Will you please?" "Would you rather clean now and get done sooner or in 10 minutes when you've gone down the slide one more time?" And thank them for saving the day with appreciation for their muscles, speed, goodness, strength, intelligence, kindness, bravery. And don't worry, sometimes they have to get bossed around. We don't always get what we want. Even Luke Skywalker has rules.

3. Boys like to test their mettle. If Moms are setting boundaries keeping them safe, how can they tell if they're getting more manly? Mom says they can jump on the trampoline. Mom looks out the window. If the boys aren't doing flips they are trying to bounce each other off. Of course the next level is jumping off the deck to the trampoline. Mom might want to get this over with while she's around just in case someone needs to go to the hospital. Mom sends boys down to play in their room. Boys jump on the beds. That being mastered they pull the mattresses off and use them to catapult brothers to the other beds. Friends come over. Mom hears ricocheting in bedroom. Mom finds boys shooting airsoft guns in bedroom, always pushing, testing, risking, becoming stronger, faster, better, give or take some lost blood, brain cells, etc. I understand it's part of becoming a man, but it gives me a heart attack. Many times my final words were, "Okay, but don't come crying to me."

4. Boys don't really like to be teased.  This is so confusing because they spend a lot of time teasing, but teasing them usually brings out the fight. This goes back to them wanting to be the hero. The action is respect the male ego. It's alive and well.

5. Boys run around and yell, but they have a heart. This may be obvious to some, but all that wildness makes a mom forget that there's a little lovey guy inside. Don't forget to show them tenderness. That's what moms are for, to teach them to love, and boys do love their mommas.  So snuggle those little heroes-big and small-even if they try to run away.

And if you're lucky enough to have other children, you're in for a treat because brothers are awesome.

How 'bout them Huskers aka on being with child.

Once when I was anticipating a long and boring layover in the Denver Airport, I happily ran into a friend and her husband from Nebraska.  We began chatting, and our conversation turned to labor and delivery stories. You know how we do.  We're definitely bragging.  It's like recounting old sports victories.  Well after patiently listening for a while the husband wryly interjected, "How 'bout them Huskers?"  Point taken, but in my black heart, ever since that day, I've imagined interrupting a "Who should win the Heisman this year" conversation with, "This one time, my water broke :)"

So, for those of you still reading, I do not pretend to be a health care professional, but I want to share a few opinions I've developed and tips I've learned about baby making, just mom to mom

There is a wonderful article by Valerie Hudson Cassler that casts a beautiful light on the privilege of bearing children.  She starts at the beginning with Eve in the Garden of Eden.  "It is through women that souls journey to mortality and gain their agency, and in general it is through the nurturing of women, their nurturing love of their children, that the light of Christ is awakened within each soul.  And we should include in that list of souls Jesus the Christ. Even Christ our Lord was escorted to mortality and veiled in flesh through the gift of a woman..."

By understanding the magnitude and importance of child bearing we position ourselves to live it well, give freely what we have and prepare ourselves to give up a few things that we may or may not have again until the resurrection.

My daughter was right when she commented that pregnancy is like Russian roulette.  You never know when you're going to escape the bullet.  For instance, my mother was always nauseated for the first few months. She was 3 months pregnant when I got married, and I remember her telling me that she may not make it to my wedding if she didn't feel good enough.  At the time I was incensed.  "You would miss my wedding because you're feeling nauseated?"  Then when it was me 3 months pregnant I saw the light, "I can't plan anything.  I'm nauseated."  Luckily, my daughter missed the nausea bullet this time, but this is more rare than common.  For all the other moms who have been hit  just remember, this is nature's way of helping you take care of yourself and your baby.  If not for sickness you could easily carry on as if nothing was different, skipping meals, staying up late.  But this way, knowing that you'll pretty much throw up if you  let yourself get tired or hungry, you take naps and snack throughout the day.  Speaking of snacks, I recommend natural whole almonds.  They aren't greasy or crumbly, can easily fit in your pocket and don't smell weird.

One more tip on nausea-adrenalin is your friend.  You think you don't want to leave the house or be with people, but that little surge of adrenalin that attends change and excitement can take the edge off.  Say yes to parties.

Once again exercise is on the must-do list.  You want to be strong for labor and as sane as possible so your family will have positive associations with pregnancy.  I say this laughing because a very common emotion that comes with the marvelous state that is expecting is "If I suffer, we all suffer,"  Let's try and make that a short stage, maybe a blip or two.

Growth is good.  There's lots of talk about baby bumps.  Whatever, more like major metamorphosis of the entire body.  My friends would comment on their baby weight gain.  My true friends would say numbers like 35, 40, 45.  Once my total gain hit 35 I stopped doing the math.  I can't tell what I don't know, but it was a high number.  But what do we expect?  We're feeding a child who's growing a million cells a second, (that may not be quite accurate) and our body is preparing to support nursing a baby, so embrace the growth...everywhere.

The good news is that when we're pregnant we have great hair.  Be prepared for it to fall out after delivery, but in the meantime it's thick and shiny.  Play to your strengths.  Get a great haircut, style it, it's your best pregnant-body feature.  While the rest of your you is waxing and waning, your hair is shining, so work it. And once again I want to emphasize the importance of mascara.

The last trimester is designed to prepare you for labor physically and mentally.  When you're tired of going to the bathroom every 30 minutes and you'd give anything for one really good breath, and people say things like, "You're ready to pop." (I'd like to pop them) and "Woah, when's that baby due?"  And "Are you still here?"  (Clearly they didn't see you crying hysterically in the Dr's. office because you believe with all your heart that you will never be unpregnant) then you're ready to trade pregnancy for labor.

Now it's time for delivery.  For those of you who are pregnant but have never delivered, as you get close to your due date you'll wonder if those braxton-hicks contractions are labor.  They can be regular and uncomfortable, but real contractions have a zing. Real labor is undeniable.

 I like to walk around for a while before going to the hospital.  I hesitate to suggest this if you don't know your typical labor ways, but I do remember on my 7th child not wanting to go to the hospital yet.  It was snowing outside and my husband did not feel comfortable taking the chance of bad roads.  We compromised.  I went to the hospital, but didn't check in.  I hung out in the lobby.  It was perfect because a friend of mine had delivered the day before, and so I got to chat with her and then ran into her visitors in the hall.  When I decided I wanted to check in I was practically ready to deliver.

(TMI alert)  This one time, my water really did break.   I think this should be more of an open topic because I know of no protocol for proper moving through public places after having one's water break.  I had tried to prepare for the outing to the hospital with my normal feminine options, but this did not prove sufficient.  As my husband and I passed random strangers in the hall I remember directing my husband to "Walk in front of me, now walk behind me."  It was hilariously awkward as I couldn't believe this was really my life, and why hadn't I seen anyone else walking around society leaking amniotic fluid?  I read in a friend's blog that she wrapped herself in a towel and headed to the hospital.  Are there any better options out there?  I'd seriously like to know.

Here are my opinions on labor. 1. Screaming doesn't help. 2. Breathing helps.  3. Wiggling your toes helps. 4. Warm whirlpool baths help. (I want one for 3 hours.  20 minutes is not long enough.) 5. Praying helps. 6. Being thankful to be a co-creator with God and remembering the Savior's sacrifice helps. 7. A loving husband and calm and capable doctor help. 8. A sense of humor helps.  (a note here.  No one should be telling any jokes but mom.  Anyone else who dares to be funny risks elimination.)

And then the baby,  the little person that you have been with for 9 months. That wiggling, kicking, hiccupping bone of your bone flesh of your flesh is in your arms.  This will be one of your best friends forever.  You will know them better than anyone else and love them better than anyone else.  You will be the one who loves them when they feel no one else does.  You will be the one they want to call when they're sick or hurt or life is hard.  You will teach them about God and love and faith and hope.  It's a big job, but it's yours and you were chosen for each other, not because you're perfect, but because it's right.  And God will help you do it.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. We have a new baby!

So, you know that moment when nothing will ever be the same?  Having a baby is definitely one of those moments.  There I was in the hospital holding a brand-new person--our little son.  "How could he be so small?  Look at his sweet little feet and long fingers.   I think he looks like his dad. I love his tiny ears and cute lips. Shouldn't he be fatter?   Wait a minute, I'm supposed to be the one keeping him alive?  I don't think I'm responsible enough for this job. I'm his mommy?  His only mommy?  What if I make a mistake?"  And that's how it began.  I had watched my mother raise her children.  I had read as much as I could on the topic and now it was go time.  I felt ready going into the hospital but didn't feel as ready coming out.  At one point I remember thinking, "Who's plan was this, sending a child home with a 22 year old mom and a 23 year old dad?  Is that even legal? And if it is, is it safe?"  Then I remembered who's plan it was and knew that we wouldn't be alone and that it was a fantastic plan.

The more I learn about the plan the more brilliant it becomes.  Did you know that our bodies help us love our babies?  There is a hormone that new mothers have that when administered to men increased their trust/ love quotient.  I believe it comes earlier than childbirth.  In my normal brain I see a baby and think, "So cute, but that looks like a lot of work."  In the last stages of pregnancy I see a baby and want to cry because they're so precious.

Recently I read an article about the new baby smell.  It lights up the pleasure center in our brain.  God knew we'd be experiencing less sleep and lots of bodily fluids with a newborn, so he made them smell delicious. That way we can be happy in our new increased level of service opportunities.

And speaking of service, here's one of the best parts of the plan.  Elder Richard G Scott stated this truth, "Fill your life with service to others.  As you lose your life in the service of Father in Heaven's children, Satan's temptations lose power in your life."  I don't know if I really served very much before motherhood.  I thought I did, but it was sporadic with most of my energies spent on taking care of me.  As mom's know, that ratio completely changes and that was a wonderful, necessary change.  Don't worry, I still spent a lot of energy taking care of  yo, but now I know that if I really want to be happy, I use my day to make others happy.

In all the wonderfulness of new motherhood, however, there are some hairy-scary parts.  Everyone knows about them, everyone blogs about them.  But here are some things that I would tell my daughter if she was having a baby (which she is) and which I have told my daughter-in-laws whether they really wanted to hear it or not.  (Thanks for listening politely.)

When I was in the hospital an older nurse came in to prepare me for checkout.  One of the things she told me was "Stay in your pajamas for at least a week.  Then people won't forget that you need to rest."  I doubted the wisdom in that and brushed it off as "old school."  I was determined that I was young and healthy and was definitely a candidate for the "They bore their babies in the field and went right back to work" club.  A couple of days after being home I walked across campus to show my baby to my friends at my old job.  Dumb.  Of course my bleeding increased and I felt light-headed.  On Sunday, I decided I didn't want to miss church but was surprised at how far it was from the parking lot and how long the hallways were.  People commented that they were surprised to see me there.  At first I felt "hooah" and complimented, but as the hour wore on, and I felt weaker. I realized I should have stayed home on the couch.  Dumb again.  Childbirth is a big deal.  Your body needs to heal.  Stay in your pajamas and lay around on the couch as much as possible.

One other real hazard that everyone needs to prepare themselves for is postpartum blues.  Right after delivery there is so much joy and elation, and the world is your family's oyster.  At about the time a mom leaves the hospital the hormones take a dip that can take the world with them.  All I can say is the house better be clean because mom isn't going to be happy and the world is not your family's oyster.  This shouldn't last too long.  It's normal.  It's real.  If it continues contact your healthcare professionals.

My photographer daughter-in-law knows that the perfect time to photograph a baby is at 10-14 days from birth.  This is because they sleep like, well, babies.  Once sleeping, they can't be woken up.  I have a theory on this.  God is giving new moms 2 weeks to rest and get strong.  The baby's activities are sleeping and eating so the mommy's activities should be sleeping and nursing.  After 2 weeks all bets are off.  Just like clockwork, after 2 weeks all my babies, but one, started crying.. a lot.

Crying is perfectly engineered to cause mothers and fathers to take action.  We become motivated scientists performing experiment after experiment, feed the baby more, burp the baby more, change the baby more, make them warmer, make them cooler, lie them on their side, bounce them, swaddle them, shush them, swing them.  If we're nursing we eat more, drink more, rest more, eat fewer acidic foods, no chocolate, no carbonated drinks, no spices, no onions.  And then sometimes the baby still cries and I've got nothing else for you except don't take it personally.  Babies cry.  Read all about it if you want, but be comforted to know that the period of P.U.R.P.L.E.(Peak of crying, Unexpected, Resists Soothing, Pain like face, Long-lasting, Evening) crying is typically from 2 weeks to 3 or 4 months and is normal if not enjoyable.  Have a good book-paperback, so you can hold it with one hand while you bounce your baby with the other, and be comforted with the thought of all the virtues you are developing: patience, compassion, creativity, resilience, and hopefully, your sense of humor.

To-do lists.  I love them.  They give me direction and a sense of accomplishment.  BC (before children) my list might say: study for test, write paper, work-out, write in journal, clean bathrooms, go to concert, call friend, make dessert for party.  Well, when you're a new mother you can still have a list, but don't undermine your feelings of self-worth by putting too much emphasis on the big specific actions.  Think small, flexible and eternal.  It should look like this: 1.Brush teeth. 2. Nourish God's child/children.  3.  Keep God's child/children alive.  4.  Love God's child/children.  5.  Thank husband for being so awesome.  6. Love Husband.  7. Pray.  That's a full day's list.  If I accomplish something unexpected I write it on the list at the end of the day and cross it off.  Who knew I would have time to put a load of laundry in the washer (it doesn't matter that I didn't get it to the dryer.)  Count it.

The most important change that came to me from becoming a mother is that children and their bond with their parents became sacred to me.  When I was up with my baby at 2:00 in the morning and it was just the two of us and God, sometimes I just felt tired, but sometimes I had perfect clarity of love and life and family.  One such experience happened on the night before I was to be speaking to some youth from our church.  I knew I needed to feel rested for the next day, but as I rocked my son with his little head on my shoulder and his heart beating next to mine, I was overwhelmed with the love God had for both of us and just as God's love is eternal, a mother's love is also eternal.  And rocking my son was exactly what I wanted to do at 2:00 that morning.

And now that I'm changed I can't see any humor in the movie "Raising Arizona."  That baby has been separated from his mother and is in danger.  While everyone else in the room is laughing at the mishaps,  I'm horrified with angry, desperate tears stinging my eyes.  When I watch "Prince of Egypt" and Moses' mother puts him in the basket and Baby Moses is riding the swollen river my mother heart swells with emotion and I, of course, cry.  And if I'm singing in a choir and we're singing "Mary's Lullaby-Tonight You Are Mine" I am rendered incapable of producing an audible sound because of my tears of gratitude to Mary for bringing a son into the world that was born to die, and I'm not only thankful for His sacrifice, but his mother's as well.

Elder Neil L. Anderson quoted a blogger in his General Conference Talk: "Children."   He said, “Motherhood is not a hobby, it is a calling. You do not collect children because you find them cuter than stamps. It is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for.”7 

Then he taught, "Having young children is not easy. Many days are just difficult. A young mother got on a bus with seven children. The bus driver asked, “Are these all yours, lady? Or is it a picnic?”

“They’re all mine,” she replied. “And it’s no picnic!”8“  In Mark 9:36-37 we read, "And [Jesus] took a child … in his arms [and] said …

“Whosoever shall receive one of such children in my name, receiveth me: and whosoever shall receive me, receiveth … him that sent me.”

I appreciated this message because sometimes as mothers we get weary, and we see the drudgery, but miss the holiness of raising God's children.  Let's not miss the holiness.

Some things motherhood taught me about God.

Since I was the oldest of 9 children, I had some experience with babies before I became a mother.  I had held babies and changed babies and smelled new-baby skin and kissed warm baby cheeks.  My mom's last child was born 3 months before my first child, so I had cuddled my brother not too long before I cuddled my son.  I felt confident that there was little about motherhood that would surprise me. Well, surprise.  There were miles of surprises, not the least of which was the amount of love I felt for the new life that I took home from the hospital.  It wasn't just great and strong and everlasting.  It was fierce.  As life went on this love for "my child" became love for  "my children."  It's not that I didn't see their imperfections and weaknesses, it was that I clearly comprehended their exquisite potential and my responsibility in opening their vision to that potential.

Which brings me to the first lesson I learned about God.  I have always believed in God, but there was a time or two when I would throw a tantrum and wonder why my life had to be hard, and sometimes I did what I wanted instead of what I should, but I always believed and had hope for heaven.  When I became a mother, the game changed.  The stakes became higher, which shows how kind He was to bless me with children.  When my children occasionally did what they wanted instead of what they should, I felt myself panic.  It wasn't enough to believe in God.  I had to know that redemption was real and that there was power in the Savior's sacrifice and that my cherished offspring would be forgiven and sanctified and made whole and reach their potential.  It was at this place I began to desperately search for this knowledge.  I studied the scriptures, prayed and waited... and the answer came.  "I would not have allowed my Son to suffer if  his atonement and sacrifice had no saving power."  Because I had loved a child, I knew this to be an absolute truth.

My children are delightful to be sure, but it's possible that there has been a brief moment or moments where I was not happy with their choices.  Of course I felt very sorry for myself during those times.  After all, hadn't I told them and told them and showed them and showed them and then they went and chose something else?  I could have been sitting on the couch eating bon bons the whole time instead killing myself with goals and discipline and teaching. It was during one of these dramatic moments that I realized suffering because of the choices of others is something Jesus Christ did, but he did it with love and willingness to serve.  And he had done it for me and mine, and you and yours. So I needed to remember to give gifts freely without any thought of return.

Another lesson I learned came during childbirth, not my first childbirth or even my second.  But after some of my children had been born I realized some symbolism in the process.  All things testify of Christ, and I understood that just as it was through Jesus Christ's pain and suffering that we can be born again and have eternal life.  The pain and suffering of a mother gives way to birth and mortal life.  It was then that I felt that I was a partner with God in the creation process.  Truthfully, remembering this made labor more meaningful and more tolerable.

Jesus Christ loves us and has made it possible to return to our Father in Heaven because of  the perfect life he lived and the precious blood he spilt. This I know with an absolute hope for heaven for all who faithfully and diligently repent and obey and love Him.

Dreams and cages. What's standing between us and our dreams?

It was Friday, my day off, the day I don't prepare for seminary, so I was reading my recreational fiction.  The book  was "Blackmoore" by Julianne Donaldson.  The characters had been introduced, and Kate (the main character) had gotten herself into a tight spot.  She was having a dramatic moment, which moments I usually tolerate with superior amusement,  but I found my heart breaking and tears springing from their hiding place.  This surprised me, and I've been pondering why this tugged at and broke my heart strings.  The passages are as follows: "I feel caged.  Always.  I feel like I am this bird, trapped and stifled and caged, and I keep looking for a way to escape, but I am barred at every turn."  "That is how I feel about India.  I want to go so badly the wanting hurts.  But I am afraid that I won't ever go, and I'm afraid that I will never realize this dream, and if I don't realize this dream, then it's possible I won't realize any dream.  And I'll just live a bleak, dreamless life without adventure or joy or choice or--or--living. All I can think is that I will end up like this poor bird.  I will beat myself against the bars of my cage until I am too exhausted, and then I will give up and live the rest of my life without a song and inside a forgotten room."

The character and I do not have much in common. I don't care about going to India (turns out this dream was just an escape.) She is an 18 year old girl with no resources  under the control of her mother.   I'm the mom and I do what I want. I have a bank card and it works (with a lot of limits of course.) I know I have choices so rarely feel trapped in that way, but I have to ask myself,  what are the bars that cage me?"  "what are my unrealized dreams?"

This is what I have determined.  The bars of my cage are fear, distraction, and laziness.

FEAR:   When I was a semester student at BYU Hawaii  there was an opportunity for the students to go for a weekend cruise.  It was an affordable 3 days around the Hawaiian islands.  Of course I did not sign up. What if I didn't know anyone?  What if no one talked to me?  What if I missed something important at home?  Besides that, I shouldn't spend any money.  So home I stayed while probably 80 % of the semester students were cruising around the islands having a wonderful time.  At least I was safe in my cage.

On another occasion a brave friend invited me to go with her on a cruise through Central America to see the Mayan ruins.  I had a husband who told me it was a chance of a lifetime and wouldn't think of letting me miss this.  It remains to this day one of my most memorable experiences thanks to a friend and spouse who opened my cage door.

DISTRACTION:  Sometimes at the end of the day I say, "I know what I did today, but is that what I wanted to do?"  My dream was to show the people in my life that I love them through some small gesture that I forgot to perform because I got on facebook, or started sorting stuff, or shopping or some other impulsive act.  My dream is to improve in music, but I didn't touch one musical instrument.  My dream is to learn and to serve and to grow, but I forgot.

LAZINESS: I have an ongoing dream of experiencing America, particularly my local area, which means one of the 10 states in which I have lived.  This week I was invited by a friend to hike Pine Mountain with a group of women.  Even though this experience aligned with my dream, my first response was, "I'm too tired for an all day hike.  When will we be back?  I suppose I'll have to make preparations like pack a lunch and water etc."  Their enthusiasm was convincing, however, so I crept out of my cage and joined them on their really beautiful and fantastic day.  It could only have been improved had I stopped complaining a little sooner.  (I really wasn't prepared for no bathroom.)

I've been observing people who realize their dreams and  have noticed some commonalities among them:

1. They state their dream boldly.  They don't say, "Well, I might go into psychology if I can get into the program."  They say, "I'm going to be a counselor."  And interestingly enough,  people don't doubt their bold statements, and those dreams are usually realized.

2.  They are resilient.  Of course doors will shut.  While I'm saying, "I can't write a book.  Someone might say I'm a bad writer."  They say, I will improve, I will get better, I will try another door, cages can be opened.

3.  They are hard working.  My son, Gabe, wanted to play a song from "Pirates of the Caribbean" on the piano.  He has had about 5 piano lessons from his sister and knows 1 other song.  The song he chose was above his level.  It is too hard.  It is not fun.  It did not sound at all like "Pirates of the Caribbean."  He's worked on it almost every day for 2 months.  He is learning it. Today it is a very recognizable "He's a Pirate."

4.They can act independently.  "This is what I'm doing.  Come along if you want."  Not, "5 people begged me and told me they'd help me.  Maybe I'll try it." (I confess I am typically of the latter ilk.)

5.  They are hopeful.  They don't say, "What if I don't like this or what if it turns out horrible? I probably can't do it." They know how to make life great. The worst thing that can happen if they go after a good dream is that they can learn and improve.

I have a friend from church who has actually published a book.  Her name is Victoria Wilcox and she wrote "Southern Son: The Saga of Doc Holliday."  (You should read it.) I'm so intrigued by this accomplishment from a real person.  Was she ever afraid that she wasn't good enough to write a book for the public?  How did she stay focused on the project for the years it took to finish the work?  And speaking of work, was she sure she wanted to commit herself to a project that big, I mean, what if she didn't feel like meeting her deadlines one day?  Apparently not, she just did it, and yes, she was sure.

So we have some choices.  We can stay safe in our cage and never get rejected by a publisher, or a coach or an audience or lose our luggage or have a child that disappoints us or a loved one that hurts us.  Or we can fly and take our talents as far as we can go and visit wonderful people and places and have a family filled with lasting joy and love and give our whole heart because we do not want to live the rest of our life without a song in a forgotten room.