Today vs. Tomorrow

On a day like today, when my hormones seem to have control of my brain, this is how my children appear to me:





I am really glad to know that tomorrow, when I feel better, more like myself, they will again look like this:

The other side of motherhood

I am very grateful that I have taken time to write about some of the joys I am finding in motherhood. Those precious, sweet moments that I am sure I will want to remember as the years go by.
Just so that I do not give the false impression that motherhood is all roses and daises - today is one of the two per month that I do not really enjoy motherhood. I know that it has to do mostly with hormones, and I remind myself that it is only temporary. While I am in the "dark mood" however, it sure feels real. It feels awful. It makes me fees compassion for those who struggle with depression on a continuing basis.
Keep in mind, what I am about to describe is not pretty. It is real. It happens on a once (sometimes twice) a month time frame. I know all women experience their own ups and downs, but It often leaves me exhausted, embarrassed, and ashamed.
Yesterday seemed like a good day. Right up until I got the call from the well meaning scout leader who asked sweetly (and 23 minutes late) if I was intending to bring Justin to his weekly scout meeting.
WEEKLY. As in EVERY WEEK. Wait, except for last week when I took him to scouts only to be sweetly told that in the note she had sent home, it said there was NO SCOUTS LAST WEEK.
And kindly reminded of next the meeting next Tuesday (yesterday).
At this point, let me point out that I have a total of 4 different scheduling systems in my home. I have a desk sized wall calendar that hangs on my pantry door for all to see. I have a monthly calendar in my office. I have 3 white board calendars also in the office that help me to schedule the times when I work. Also, I have recently delved into google calendars, knowing they would e mail me when it was time to DO something. Of course, that part has not been working out so well......
In my frantic effort to remember everything, I tossed around all the possibilities. I read the pros and cons of palm pilots -these little dream machines can do everything! Schedule your life, carry your scriptures, make your Dr. appointments. Oh wait. Almost everything. And you can find them used for not too much money.
I looked at the ipod touch. This one was recommended by some ladies on blog discussion about scheduling. And heaven knows I need help in that department. The cost of the ipod touch was enough to convince me that it was more of a want than a need.
I even looked at buying a new pricey cell phone. One with a teeny tiny keyboard. That would carry mp3's, and take pictures, and be a telephone, and maybe even have a great scheduling system. Maybe. The cost on that was more than I was comfortable with as well.
In talking to Bob, and to one of my sisters, I realized that I could just set alarms on my cell phone. Cheap, easy, efficient, right? I set 8 different alarms for this week, then made a great effort to keep that little phone right in my pocket every day.
This works well until it is Tuesday, Scout day, and you find you have set your alarm for THURSDAY!!!!!
What a long drawn out way to get to the point. The humiliation of forgetting Scouts (AGAIN) apparently combined with my raging hormones and turned me into a red eyed monster. I raged to the kids that apparently my butt phone was just as ineffective as every other method of scheduling invented. That I could NOT POSSIBLY be capable of keeping up with the schedules of 10 people. That from now on, if THEY want to go to an activity, it is THEIR responsibility to remind ME and not vice versa.
I would love to say this was the end of my rampage. But it was not. The worst part came when Bob came home. I was explaining to him how hard my day had been. How hard it was to be a mother and then I went looking for a pen to write a requested item on the shopping list. I probably should have just left the room. There were no pens. NOT ONE. Keep in mind, this is not an unusual occurrence. Just last week, when I ran into the no pen phenomena, I kindly went to my stash, pulled out 7 pens, put them in the container that is attached to the side of the fridge and smiled smugly. "That should keep me for a while" I thought. And just a few days later, they were gone????? I told Bob, I told John, I told Leigh Ann - quite possibly at the top of my lungs just how irritating it was to have 7 pens disappear in 4 days. Then I am pretty sure I did a 2 year old tantrum. I jumped up and down saying "pens, pens, pens, pens" until I got through it and left the room.
Embarrassing, right? At this point in the month, after I have thrown a good sized fit, I try to do damage control. Last night, this consisted with listening to a book on tape in BOTH ears while I finished cooking dinner. Eating quickly and then hiding out in the bath tub for an hour and a half.
I would love to say I feel all better today, but I will probably have to wait till tomorrow. For today, I don't really LIKE anyone. Myself included. Instead of seeing smiling happy wet little boys in the bathtub, I see little monsters who only want to argue and splash in my general direction. Instead of helping the 4 year old with his silverware, I yelled (not my usual modus operandi) and told him to quit whining. When my 15 year old commented that I make grits for breakfast a LOT lately, I told him he was welcome to get his butt out of bed at 6 am and make whatever in the world he thought sounded good.
I will cross my fingers and hope, desperately hope that tomorrow will be a better day.

Three times meeting yesterday

     This seems to be an alarming trend, an uncomfortable repeating pattern. For the third time in two months, I  met  myself while walking along life’s lengthy corridor.
The pattern seems to be “Old mother passing Young mother”, perhaps it is “the me of experience and the inexperienced one.   It  could even be “a comfortable me vs. the me who wanted to crawl out of her own skin.”
     The first time this happened, it caused me to look at who I was as a mother to my first two children. What experiences I gave them, what time I devoted to their care – and to compare it to the mother I am today. The time and experiences I devote to 8 children, as opposed to only two.
     The second time entailed a startling realization that today, I feel a desperate need for peace, for quiet, for orderliness that is totally unattainable with all of these children around me all day every day. And a look into the past where I could see so clearly the desire for all of these children. For the need for childrens laughter, for inane banter, for teasing and running. For children.
     Today marks the third passing. I was asked to teach a class at church that I have not taught for 17 years. Since my 1st child was born. When I was asked to teach the class, I again had a rush of memory. Me, at 21 years old – teaching a class full of ‘grown ups’. I was certain that I was totally inadequate to teach this class – having been in the Gospel for such a short time in comparison to these ‘seasoned’ women. Each lesson I taught was worried about, fretted over, tossed and turned in hopes that if I could make it creative enough, and energetic enough, that they might not notice that I had such a tiny pool of experience from which to draw.
     This morning, I received a call from a dear friend, asking if I would teach her lesson as her daughter would be delivering the first grandchild. I admit to having a little bit of discomfort at the thought of having only hours, not weeks to prepare. But when she brought over her already prepared lesson, I was fine! All these years of teaching children at church. All ages, from 4 to 19 must have given me some peace, some level of comfort in teaching, and a greater knowledge of the Gospel. Teaching today was FUN! It was an interaction with people who I felt to be on the same level as I am. A discussion of a fascinating topic. A presentation of ideas, of thoughts, and of mental stimulation.
     When I met  myself today, I had the same realization. For the third time in two months, I walked by a young, thin, smiling young mother. Our eyes met in startled recognition and seemed to say “I know you. ”
The me of yesterday looked with questioning eyes “am I doing all right? I am so unsure. I feel as if I am walking on parts of an unbuilt bridge, not sure of where to place my feet, not sure how to cross to the other side.”
     The me of today looks with happiness, with confidence, and with pride. She tries to communicate with a compassionate look of her own “You have no idea of all that you are capable of. You will become an amazing woman. Trust in yourself. Trust in your God. Trust those around you to show you the way. You may not make all the right steps, but when you are where I am – you will see how well you have done. You will be so happy”
     Perhaps one day I will be blessed enough to see another me. To come into contact with the me of the future. The one who has raised all of her children. Who has passed though all of the heartache, the joy, the work and the play. The Grandmother who is beginning to watch her own children become parents. The ‘seasoned woman’ who has successfully passed through the rigors of raising children and come successfully on the other side.
     I would look to her, my eyes full of questions. “Will they turn out all right? Will they make good choices? Will they follow the paths that we have marked for them? Will I have the mental stability to make it through the rest of my parenting days? Through children driving, dating, leaving the home. Will I be able to let them go? 
     Hopefully, she would look back at me with happiness, compassion and pride and tell me all is well.  It was a job well done.  That I had done what I set out to do all those years ago.

The most wonderful gift

     Quiet, Tranquility, and Peace swirl about in my head.  I can hear each thought as it enters my mind, undistracted.  Such an unusual time.  8 children at the store with Bob.  Me – alone.  I feel as if I have been given a gift.  A shiny wrapped package with an exquisite bow.  Quiet.  Peace.  Such a tremendous difference from my everyday life.  Before he took them to the store, there were 8 children in the kitchen with me.  All seeming to be speaking about a different subject, each knowing that I was intently listening only to them, and not to the others. 

     And then swooped in the unexpected super hero – home from a long day’s work.   With a twinkle in his eye, he asked if I would like it if he took them all to the store with him.  My jaw dropped.  In 17 years of parenting, I can count on one hand how many times he has volunteered.  A gift.  A bright shiny package with exquisite pleasure inside.   Quiet.  

       And then I remember.  How I longed for, begged for, desired, and wanted so desperately these children.  How I used to watch the mothers around me with their babies in their arms, with their clambering toddlers on their knees and want so badly to have some of my own.  I remember the feeling of boredom, of loneliness, of too much quiet.  I remember tears shed as I imagined how wonderful it would be to have my children.  To teach and nurture them.  Imagining them as the best gift ever.  The most beautiful package, tied with the biggest bow ever.  Untold secrets inside.  Excitement, anticipation, pleasure.  Soft dimpled hands and sweet smelling downy hair.  Giggles, smiles and first words.  How I longed for that pleasure, for that gift.

      And now I wonder – how much quiet, how much  peace would it take  before I long for these children.  Before I remember with fondness the exquisite joy in the noise, in the chaos.   How many hours would it take before I would wish to have them back again, running, talking, laughing.    Those who have gone before me, and who have already raised their children assure me that it will all be over much too quickly.  So for now, I will try to remember the gifts.  Firstly, the gift of a wonderful husband who gave me the gift of peace and quiet, but mostly, for the gifts of my children.  My noisy, excited, boisterous, wonderful children.

       Sometimes, being raised in a large family has it's disadvantages.  Last week, for instance, we forgot a child.  We headed off to church while he was using the bathroom.  Once we unloaded from our large white van into the church parking lot, we realized we were missing one.   Matthew.  4 years old and the 7th child of 8.  Bob hurried the 3 minutes home to collect him,while I sat at church, berating myself for doing what I swore I would never do.  What my parents did repeatedly.  Leave one of my own children.  Thankfully, Matthew had gotten himslef off the potty, re-dressed himself, assessed the situation and decided that since he was the only one at home, he might as well go upstairs and watch a movie.  Now THAT is self-sufficient!
       Other times, being raised in a large family has major advantages.  With our first few children, we were sleep nazis!  They were in bed by 7:00 pm, and the slightest hint of whispering, rustling of covers, or tiptoed steps on the stairs brought the wrath of mom AND dad.  Sometimes it even earned the non-sleeper 3 minutes in the food room surrounded by the chill of no insulatin and the mocking cans of green beans. 
        Now, we put our children to bed and forget about them.  Really.  They are in bed and we still have a gazillion things to get done.  Tonight was no different - Find the Easter baskets, get them ready, hide some eggs and some random candy, coordinate the times of activities for tomorrow.  And an hour and a half after bedtime for little ones - discover that Matthew has my camera.  Has had it for an hour and a half.  Has taken 143 pictures.  I try to look stern as I lecture him about not touching things that are not his (wasn't I the one who left it on the banister?), about staying in bed (as if I even checked), and about maybe having to eat some of his Easter candy since he used my camera without permission (good one, right?) 
       After I put him in bed, I stood around with my big kids and laughed myself silly, looking at the pictures he had taken.  Wow - like through the eyes of a 4 year old! 

What I see when I lay in bed

My baby brother who is boring because he is asleep while I am

lighting up the room with this great flashing camera

All of my blankets.  this is my favorite kind.  The kind Grandpa Watson makes

I like to stick my fingers into the holes before I go to sleep

I even went on a color hunt and found all of these great colors in my own bedroom! 

When I got thirsty, I snuck out to get a drink.  Just had to take a picutre so that

I could use it to say nanny - nanny- naah - naah

I snuuuuuck out!

And finally, I just had to have proof that if you stick your head under the covers,

and use the right flash setting, the pictures of your face, nose, fingers and eyeballs

will come out great!

I had NO idea the flash would be soooooo bright!