I still remember this day from 2013 with complete clarity. I had a brand-new, very needy fourth baby, a barely turned two-year old Emma, a brand new house, a busy with his new calling and his new job husband, and man alive I couldn't believe how cold it was in the wintertime in Iowa. We were headed to church and I just gave up on actually getting inside the building, opting to sit in the warm car and punch out this blog post that I never published instead. So while it's nearly 4 years old, it's a peek into our lives that I don't want to forget.
Jason has been called to serve as the Elders Quorum President. For the fourth time. Meetings- ugh. Blessings- yay.
It snowed last night. It takes me twice as long to get the kids geared up and out the door as it does for them to trek around in the snow.
I'm sitting in the car again. It's 18 degrees out this time. Emma fell asleep on the way to church, and even our Christmas Sunday sacrament meeting can't trump her need to catch up on sleep. Plus Noah needed to nurse, and now he's got a full belly and an even fuller diaper. And Jason took the diaper bag. And there is snow and slush and ice all over the parking lot, and I'm wearing those darn gray heels again (the ones I swear I will never wear again every time I put them on).
Sometimes I wonder why I try. Why do I bother dressing my kids up in their church clothes when they would so much rather hang out in their pajamas all day? Why do I bother getting dressed myself, only to spend half of church in the car and the the half in the mothers lounge? Why do I put any effort into meals? My family loves frozen taquitos, and so do I! Why bother with the laundry when it just has to be done again and again and again?
If these sound like the musings of a slightly overwhelmed, sleep-deprived, wishing she could do the work of 20 women mother, that's because that is exactly what they are.
That's all I wrote before Emma woke up and the three of us trudged into the chapel, snatched up the diaper bag and relocated to the mother's lounge.
That seems so long ago.
Nowadays, I still go to church by myself. But my kids can help each other with brushing their hair, buttoning their buttons, and finding their shoes, even with getting breakfast ready while I finish getting ready upstairs.
They can all articulate their needs. They can pitch in and help out and take care of themselves and their things.
I can leave my kids at home while I run one of them to their activity, or while I run to the store. I can count on consistent naps.
I look forward to the conversations that I get to have with them when they come home from school, or from church activities or from a party. They can be really great company.
And, judging from the lessons learned from this hidden post, some of the things that I love most- and some the things that drive me just a tad crazy- about them are going to disappear in just a few short years.
Like the way they still get up in the night to tell me about their fears and dreams and try to snuggle into our bed.
Or the way some of them still require assistance in the bathroom.
The way they ask permission before leaving the house, or eating any food, or turning on a screen.
The silly plays they perform, and the endless rounds of songs they all sing. They love harmonizing, which always cracks me up.
Playing with dinosaurs in the sandbox.
The hours and hours dedicated to Legos, and the complex worlds they create.
That they all request a "scratch back" every night. I'll never stop tucking them in.
The way I can scoop the little ones up to hug and kiss and tickle them. Leah comes up to my eyes now, and Adam's not too far behind.
The arguments over dinner. Just how many bites constitutes a fair attempt at trying something new and scary like beef.
It's always changing, but it seems like the years have really been flying lately. But I keep holding onto them as best I can!
That's all I wrote before Emma woke up and the three of us trudged into the chapel, snatched up the diaper bag and relocated to the mother's lounge.
That seems so long ago.
Nowadays, I still go to church by myself. But my kids can help each other with brushing their hair, buttoning their buttons, and finding their shoes, even with getting breakfast ready while I finish getting ready upstairs.
They can all articulate their needs. They can pitch in and help out and take care of themselves and their things.
I can leave my kids at home while I run one of them to their activity, or while I run to the store. I can count on consistent naps.
I look forward to the conversations that I get to have with them when they come home from school, or from church activities or from a party. They can be really great company.
And, judging from the lessons learned from this hidden post, some of the things that I love most- and some the things that drive me just a tad crazy- about them are going to disappear in just a few short years.
Like the way they still get up in the night to tell me about their fears and dreams and try to snuggle into our bed.
Or the way some of them still require assistance in the bathroom.
The way they ask permission before leaving the house, or eating any food, or turning on a screen.
The silly plays they perform, and the endless rounds of songs they all sing. They love harmonizing, which always cracks me up.
Playing with dinosaurs in the sandbox.
The hours and hours dedicated to Legos, and the complex worlds they create.
That they all request a "scratch back" every night. I'll never stop tucking them in.
The way I can scoop the little ones up to hug and kiss and tickle them. Leah comes up to my eyes now, and Adam's not too far behind.
The arguments over dinner. Just how many bites constitutes a fair attempt at trying something new and scary like beef.
It's always changing, but it seems like the years have really been flying lately. But I keep holding onto them as best I can!
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