Motherhood

I had a great Mother's Day this year. Mason slept in until 7 instead of awaking at 5, as has been his norm (although Brian was prepared to handle the 5 a.m. wake-up call had it come). Brian handled kitchen duties the entire day, and it was blissful to have a break from such activities. I got some fun presents, including a movie, the Adele 21 album, and Brian even ventured into Charming Charlie to search for a short, chunky, coral necklace that matches my new sandals, as per my request. Not only did he venture, he succeeded.

As I am still the 2nd Sunday Relief Society instructor, I had to teach the mother's day lesson to all of the lovely ladies for the second year in a row (everyone from primary and young women attends also), and it was a packed room. The lesson went well. It was humbling and inspiring to stand in front of so many fantastic ladies.

Isabel wrote on her mother's day paper from primary that I am "good at dancing and beautiful as a dolphin." That, along with Lucas' preschool questionnaire answer that I am 70 years old, I can see that my kids really know how to flatter. I tell ya what.

The rest of the day was relaxed and calm and just what I needed. Isabel gave me a foot massage, Brian cooked fantastic fish tacos - which were as scrumptious as they were pretty - and from-scratch brownies.

After dinner the clouds that had been hovering for several days lifted, and it turned into the most glorious evening. We played a little backyard baseball then walked to the lake. These pictures illustrate how much the older children love to take care of their baby brother, and how much they love to throw rocks in the lake. I swear, it is a rite of childhood. It never.gets.old.

 

If you read NieNie, you might know that she sponsored an "Motherhood is..." essay contest. I entered,  didn't win, and thought I'd let it rest here:

Motherhood is…a choice I once made, while driving with my husband on a road trip across a sun-kissed early-summer Midwestern cornfield that spread out before me, as vast as my future. I was ready to have a baby, I announced to my husband.

            But what I couldn’t have known then, yet have subsequently learned, is that motherhood is a choice I continue to make every day.

            My decision to become a mother was only the launching point for countless other decisions, almost like a daily, real-life choose my own adventure. And what an adventure it is, this bringing a life into the world and guiding it in the direction it should go!

            Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, ‘There is no one perfect way to be a good mother. Each situation is unique. Each mother has different challenges, different skills and abilities, and certainly different children. The choice is different and unique for each mother and each family.”

            I choose to accept the knowledge that the tiny, innocent babies that stormed into my life and stole my heart, time, sleep, body – anything, really, that possibly can be sacrificed – will one day grow into adults. I choose how I am going to prepare them to be successful adults that contribute to their worlds in positive ways.

            I choose to make the very most out of the relatively short period of time that my children will be young and they will be mine. I choose to endow them with experiences, memories and lessons that they will take with them on their journeys, and from which they then can pluck from the life smorgasbord I have prepared for them a treasure to help them attain all that is possible. Or simply, to select a “remember when we…” to make them smile. Or to remember how much they are loved.

            I choose how much of my time to give. I have sacrificed money and career to spend precious moments living fully immersed in this season of young motherhood, a season that will lend itself to other seasons, and, unlike the spring that always casts aside the darkness of winter, will not return.

I choose how to respond to situations. Sometimes – oh blasted truth, more than I care to admit – I choose incorrectly. Yet I make a cognizant effort to choose as best I can to handle my responses to the funny, infuriating, overwhelming and at times indescribable situations I am presented with, just as the Savior would.

I choose to remember that I chose this. And in so doing, I choose the dirty diapers, the monotony of preparing three square meals a day, the piles of laundry that taunt me with their refusal to shrink but instead rapidly multiply, the homework, the activities, the heartbreak, the laughter, the tears, and the joy. Always, I strive to choose the joy.