Author: alicewgold

I would like to state that I am a brunette, but now I am a mix of grey, white, brown, and blonde. I would also like to say that I am 150 pounds, but that would be a boldfaced lie. How about I say I am work in progress because that is the truth? A beautiful work in progress. I love the sound of my fingers tapping on the keyboard and my greatest hope is that something that I write will lift someone else on their journey.

Mom’s new year seems so old.

Two things are pressing on my mind today.

1- I need to make my new year resolutions.
2- How am I going to stay sane this year?

Maybe they can be related? Yesterday in church there were a bunch of new ladies. We were to go around the room and tell a few things about ourselves. Our name. Where we live. Our favorite treat. Our job. Our hobby.

I was all prepped to give me answers. I’m Alice Gold. I live within walking distance from the rest of you. In a two bedroom condo. With 5 kids. And a dog. I’m still blessed beyond measure. My favorite treat is whenever I don’t have to cook. (Who said treats have to be sugary anyway?) My jobs are to stay sane and to be kind, both which are greatly challenging and fulfilling. My hobbies are all in trouble this year because I have a newborn.

And then I had to leave the room to change the baby’s stinkiest diaper of all time. I decided I would change my hobby to figuring out if it is possible to change a boy diaper in under 10 baby wipes. By the time I got back to the room, they had changed the game to just telling everyone your name. (They were running out of time.) psh.

I don’t even think I made resolutions last year. I was pregnant. Totally off the hook. My goal last year was to grow a baby. I did it. I’m amazing.

My other goal was to give birth all-natural. I failed. I tried and tried. I labored for what seemed like forever and I thought I would die. I wanted to push the baby out. The doctor said I was only at a 7 and wasn’t allowed to push, yet. I felt destroyed and figured I experienced enough all-natural and that the actors in movies really don’t exaggerate. I was not being kind or staying sane. I begged my husband for the epidural and cussed out the anesthesiologist enough when he got there that he gave me the spinal dose. (You mean you didn’t give me the spinal dose on my other 4 kids? What the heck?) One contraction later…literally…the doctor examined me and said the baby was crowning. I’m blaming the lack of all-natural delivery on him, but we all know it is really my inability to relax without almost lethal doses of drugs.

I’m not gonna lie. I’ve pondered how much easier life would be to live on a constant dose of lethal drugs, or laughing gas…or marijuana. Lucky for me, I’ve never crossed that ponder to action or else I would be a drug addict, in rehab, or dead. Life was meant to hurt. Drugs rob us of the very essence of mortality…except in labor…those drugs are legit. (This paragraph is a total sidenote that I can’t bring myself to omit.)

So, this morning the high of having a newborn wore off. I almost made it 4 months. That’s pretty good if you ask me. When everyone else in the family took off to work and school, I enjoyed the silence for 5 minutes until the baby started crying out of hunger. I looked down at him and felt a little resentment. I’m 41 and still waiting for “my turn”. What I really want is to pursue my own goals, yet for the past 15 years it feels like all I’ve done is take care of babies…I stared at baby Max in the eyes and committed to continued sacrifice. I’ll get my turn eventually.

[I don’t want to turn this in to a stay-home mom vs. working mom debate as I think the choice is personal. I did however laugh a while back when I asked one of my working mom friends which would be better to take a trip to Hawaii with or without children (if you could only go once in a lifetime). She answered, “With kids. We would never go without the kids, we would just miss them too much.” I was like, “yea right, I might get that if I hadn’t committed every waking hour to my kids for 15 years. I would miss my kids after about 5 days and then I would get over it for a few more.” It’s a lot harder to miss your kids when you are always with them.]

Anyhow, the older I have gotten, the more I realize that I can be a mom and pursue my goals. I just can’t pursue them in an all-out fashion like I would prefer. I have to balance my time for me with my time for them. I tend to give them a lot more than I give me, and I hope someday I will look back on that decision with no regrets. Let’s face it, I’m not taking any career with me to the next life, but I do think God will sit me down and one of his first questions will be, “How are your kids? How is your relationship with your kids?”

So this very long post has helped me to process my two things “to do” today. Thanks for riding along. I’m going to stay sane one day at a time and not expect too much out of myself or even for myself. I’ve done it 15 years. What is five more? And, really, is it the end of the world that I’ve been writing this all day instead of doing Caroline’s homework, working on the budget, or cleaning out the stove? Nah.

My answer #2.
Here are some simple goals.

1. Don’t have another baby. Ever. Check. This should be easy. See last post entitled “I’ve been fixed.” But gosh dangit as soon as I heal up from surgery LG and I plan to die trying. 12 weeks of celibacy in a 4 month period of time is rough.
2. Write. When I can and/or feel like it. Maybe join a writing group or class?
3. Take care of myself. This will hopefully include getting back to my running upon doctor’s approval, biking some, eating healthier, and getting back down to pre-baby weight before Maximus’s first birthday. (the occasional pedicure too)
4. Take pictures. When I can and/or feel like it. Read my camera manual if I get around to it.
5. Camp and hike.
6. Love. My husband and kids, mostly.
7. Self-improve. Focusing on being kind and gracious, letting go of control, living in the moment, and being happy.
8. Self-discipline. Focusing on not wasting as much time on FB and being a better morning person, which really means getting to bed earlier.
9. Give more to God. Having daily quiet time. Look for ways to serve my fellowman.
10. Read. (I’m not making a reading goal ever again as per the advice of my therapist.)
11. Save at least $10,000 towards purchasing a home. Sacrifice.
12. Overcome my fear of physics. Watch some smart youtube videos.
13. Remember!!! My family is my greatest blessing. Ever. Make sure they know that I know.

What’s not to love?

I’ve been fixed.

So it’s 12:30 and I can’t sleep. I’m here at the hospital. Yesterday between 10 & 1 my doctor cut me open and removed my prolapsed uterus and stitched up my bladder. It’s pretty weird that I feel so peaceful about not having any more kids.

It’s strange knowing that I will never give birth again. I’m not sad about it as I’m 41 and have a 3 month old who is kicking my old dragging butt. I have five kids and that’s enough for me. In fact it may be a little more than I can handle.

Funny as I lay in the hospital, where my kids aren’t allowed to visit, there are still reminders of them that help me remember WHO I am: I’m mom.

Last night I watched Abigail’s concert via live stream. It was pretty hard to focus as I was all drugged up, but seeing my oldest beautiful teenage daughter singing joyfully warmed my heart more than anything could.

I was super worried about leaving my youngest Baby Maximus for three days, but I was placed in a room with a portrait of twins that look so much like Max.

I have very tender feelings about motherhood right now. Being mom is who I am. It’s what I choose to do every day.

This guy may just be three months old, but I’ve been mom for almost 16 years with an eternity to go. I absolutely adore my children.

My doctor assured me that I wouldn’t have hormone issues since we left my ovaries, but he said some women get very melancholy because of the psychological effects of knowing they can no longer bare children. I told him
I’d be fine. I feel very secure that I’ve brought all the kids to the world that I was charged to do. It’s a great feeling.

Being a mom is the third best thing I’ve ever done in this life. The first is living the gospel. The second is becoming a wife. Funny, how all these things are connected to each other…as part of God’s plan.

His plan for me to be a mother, just as He is my Father is so very humbling. I want to be the kind of parent He is. I want to be the kind of child that makes Him proud. I think my role as mother brings him joy, just as it gives me joy.

Parenting is God’s gift to us. It serves as a constant reminder of His love for us and His trust in us.

I was touched by my dad’s Thanksgiving speech this year.

Dad’s thanksgiving speech 2014:

^^^I just watched this after having it posted for a month and realized that I missed the “touching” part of the speech. It came before I started videoing. Yes, I am an airhead sometimes. The touching part was when my dad said something to the effect of, “You are all loved. You were all wanted.”

All 49 of us minus a few on missions, one grandkid who led the way to heaven, and a couple celebrating with their dad got together at my oldest brother Erick’s house. It was such a beautiful gathering.

My dad nailed the tender feelings of a parent. We are all loved by each other. That’s what family is about.

Life isn’t about anything but learning to be one big happy family.

Having major life-altering surgery has caused me to reflect on how blessed I am.

Not only has my immediate family stepped in to do my job while I recover, but so many friends have helped in so many small ways. The love is tangible.

I may not be giving birth ever again (giving life to my children is the greatest thing I’ve done with my life) but I can always continue to love.

Lessons from the trail: the dog, the cats, and the leash.

IMG_20141107_104326 I couldn’t help but sing aloud, “On the road again, just can’t wait to get on the road again,” as I drove up the street towards my beloved Murdock Canal Trail. You see, about 10 months ago I found myself really struggling with my running regimen. I felt like my bladder was just going to drop right out of my body. Shortly before I started struggling I found out that I was expecting baby Max and shortly after giving up during that first (and last) gruesome mile and turning back around to limp my sad self home, I ended up in the E.R. I had a prolapsed uterus and my doctor forbade me from running. Even walking long distances would not allowed for the duration of my pregnancy.

As many of you know, my trail-time is one of my most favorite things. I love being out in nature. I love the sunshine. I love the rain. I even love the snow. As I watch closely for all the little details in the world around me, I simultaneously dump all my cares out of my overloaded brain. One by one they are left on the gravel as I trample them under my feet headed for a lighter future. My trail-time not only makes me feel great physically, but without it I start to fall apart a little mentally.

So, earlier this week, when I was finally able to get back on the trail I was beyond ecstatic. Even with taking Max along in the stroller I was finally able to get the therapeutic benefit that I have been missing tremendously. [If you don’t understand what I am talking about, I double-dog dare you to find a quiet trail near you and spend time walking on it every day – make sure you let me know how it changes you because I promise it will.]

Okay, okay, on with the story as part of my series “lessons from the trail”. I feel like Henry David Thoreau in Walden when I write these stories. Nature is a powerful philosopher. So, on Monday, there I was, back on the trail again. I was multi-tasking at its finest, pushing Max in the stroller, supervising the dog on and off of the leash, listening to my tunes, and observing the world around me.

Why do I put the dog on AND off the leash you ask? I’m so glad you did ask, that’s what my story is all about. You see, our dog, Olive, is naughty. I have her partially trained, but she refuses to be fully broken. She reminds me of….well….me. Olive will run after whatever catches her attention and completely ignore my incessant calls. She especially loves birds and cats…probably much like all the other dogs. Another thing about Olive is that she only gets along with about 50% of other dogs that we encounter. If she doesn’t like the other dogs, she will go after them until she has their full submission to her dominance.

This doesn’t work out so well when the other dogs have the same personality. So, given her disobedience (not to mention the leash laws) I should really never let her off the leash, but, you see, she, like me, loves to roam free in the mountains. So, when no one is around I let her run and explore as long as she doesn’t go too far off the trail. As soon as I spot someone off in the distance (and before Olive has a chance to attack their dogs) I hurry and put her back on the leash until the others are safely past us. I also put her on the leash when small children are approaching or if I notice anything else that will cause her to run off like a doggy lunatic.

And there it was…something that would make Olive crazy…about 100 feet ahead of us, a cat was sunning right in the middle of the path. I hurried and grabbed Olive (who does well to get on the leash if she doesn’t detect anything of extra interest – lucky for me, my eyes seem to be better than hers) and walked on. I held her at a close distance and we marched right on by that cat without incident. Olive noticed the cat but didn’t yank my arm off to go after her. She just barked a few times and focused ahead.

And there was my lesson for the day. If I place myself on the end of that leash, I think that sometimes I also pass the test, as did Olive. I think if I am aware of the big picture and know that just shortly up the path there may be something else of better interest to me I don’t get all crazy. If I behave I will be let off the leash to get a close-up of what is best for me, which is probably not what I think is best for me. Because of the leash I allow myself to be tethered to (which for me is my faith and beliefs) I am freed from so many unnecessary distractions. The key though is that I have to be willing to be leashed so that I don’t run off before I have a chance to think things through. I also have to trust my maker and know that He will unleash me when I am ready and/or safe. It was a profound observation for me as I resist being controlled in any manner.

Then, just as I finished processing all of the leash metaphors in my own life, I noticed another cat. I hurried and put Olive on the leash again, hoping for the same success to support my observation. This time, however, I was disappointed. I braced myself as Olive took off, as usual, only to be thwarted by the yank of her collar on the leash. I never understand why dogs don’t learn!

I’ll leave you walking along with me on the trail trying to make sense of the second cat encounter. You can surely come up with your own comparisons, as did I, but I will give you this: I was instantly filled with gratitude for my maker who always stands with the leash, waiting for me to heed his calls instead of taking off after who knows what. He has a grand journey prepared for me and no matter how many times I allow myself to be distracted with my own ridiculous notions, He never lets go. And someday, in the very distant future, I am sure that I will be strong enough to not need a leash, until then, though, I will gladly tether myself to it.

Just the way you are, you matter to him.

Here is some great spiritual enlightenment for your day.

The older I get the more I appreciate my kids’ imaginations.

A while back while I ran in to pay for gas after my card didn’t work at the pump, Bella captured Caroline lip-syncing. It’s so cute how Caroline always keeps up with her older sisters on pop culture. Days later as I came across this surprise video on my phone it brought tears to my eyes, partially because the words to the song were so fitting and partially because of the tenderness of one sister being able to see the value in the moment of her little sister just being little and care-free. Watching in after the fact was super overwhelming to this emotional proud mom. I also got a little chuckle about the fact that my kids can’t just sit in their seat-belts for 30 seconds unsupervised but always have to misbehave and jump around in the car.

As a busy mother of 5, I really love the one-on-one time I get with Caroline right after kindergarten gets out at noon. While Max naps, she tells me all about her day. Yesterday in P.E. they got to play with a parachute. She thought that was totally awesome and I smiled thinking back to a time when I was young and innocent and experienced the large parachute at school for the first time. I thought it was awesome too.

A few weeks back, while talking to Caroline about everything and nothing at all, she declared:

“Mom, when I grow up, I am going to create a green planet with rings around it.”

I immediately got out the watercolors and had her paint me a prototype.

I hope she will get the privilege of making her own planets someday, (which is totally possible according to Mormon doctrine) but for now I am so glad that her whole big universe with infinite imagination can fit on my fridge. What a beautiful beautiful privilege it is to be a mom.

[Oh, and on a cool sidenote: I love it when science catches up with God’s truths about the galaxy. I believe God definitely has his children helping him out with planet creations. I know if it’s up to me someday I am totally putting Caroline in charge of all the green planets.]

After post; check this out;
We Lived with God: http://youtu.be/JR8qIrJcJh4

This scientist says my thoughts way better than me.

Boys have stinky wonder-twin powers.

While on the phone with my mom the other day I was telling her all about my little Max. I can’t believe we are creeping up on his two month birthday already. If I was actually getting any sleep I would say let’s freeze time to keep my little Maximus little. The other day I told my husband, “I am such a bad mother because if God appeared to me right now and said he wanted Max back, I think I would gladly hand him over.” LG responded that there was no way that I wouldn’t give up a fight. I then chortled, “If he shows up during the 2 a.m. feeding there’d be no contesting whatsoever.” Yes, I’m that tired.

Anyhow, back to my mom who said,”Alice, I know you have your blog, but you should really write all these cute things down about your kids….you know, the things that you don’t want to forget.”

So, I know I am not going to do that every day, but I thought I could record some things here to someday look back on and smile. I know I will forget all about so many of them, even as early as tomorrow.

I laugh hysterically every time his little wee-wee goes crazy fire-hose on me. (I am so not used to having a boy and I have yet to figure this out.) He pees on me all the time. He pees on his own face. He shoots pee across the bathtub. He’s marked his territory in my bed, on my couch, all over his dad. I find it hilariously amusing even if it is inconvenient. The other day I wiped down my peed-on-sheets with a baby wipe and proceeded to lay back down on them to sleep. I was too tired. Come to think of it, I still haven’t washed those sheets properly. Because of my son, I finally understand why grown men can have a pee-off at Scout camp. That little fire-hose must be awesome fun…it’s like having your very own toy gun at your disposal.

After having four girls, I was terrified of having a baby penis around, but I have been surprised by how quickly I have grown accustomed to it. I don’t like how his baby poop hides underneath his scrotum. I use at least 10 baby wipes every poopy. For the record, I think changing boy diapers is much harder than changing girl ones. My husband LeGrand literally guffawed for about 10 minutes last month when I ignorantly observed, “No wonder why you use so much toilet paper if your poop is all up in your testicles like that.” After LG regained composure, he said, “Alice, we’ve been married 18 years, don’t you know that my testicles are nowhere near my anus.” I guess I haven’t paid that much attention and I guess I will now be paying closer attention to making sure Max’s gain a good enough distance at some point….will that be when diaper changing gets easier?

This kid eats and eats already, way more than my girls ever did. Everyone told me while he was in utero to start saving my dollars to supply snacks for when all his teenage friends come over. How am I supposed to do that when buying his formula is eliminating all chances of him attending college?

The day I dressed Max up in his little Air Jordans I thought my husband was going to die of envy. He accusingly questioned me about how I had afforded such a monstrosity. I informed him as quick as I could (before the shoes required a whole marriage counseling session) that they were a shower gift. I never buy baby shoes. No matter how bad my husband thinks I am with our money, I know that we can’t afford such an accessorizing-only-luxury. LG marveled, “Who gave those to us? Do you know how much those must have cost?” He then lamented, “I never had a pair of Air Jordans. They were way too expensive.”

Oh, and then when he goes to church, we always put him in his bow-tie. Girls never look this cute.

Having a boy is awesome. It’s a lot like having a really great dog. Every member of our family, including our 5-year-old, has already learned to blame their farts on him. Poor thing. It’s totally legit though because this kid stinks! He’s going to grow up into a proud man. Seriously. Boys come with their own cloud of stench. His poops and his farts are rank. I almost can’t even claim the kid out of auromatic shame. Surely a mom such as I that smells only of roses and wisteria cannot have given birth to that. The other day, Max aimed to tell me that he’s already proud. When he farted in the tub, he kind of jumped from the surprise and then gave me the HUGEST smile you have ever seen.

The kid is always putting his hand down my shirt. I’d say he’s just like his dad (in fact I did) but his dad tells me that’s totally inappropriate and not funny.

The best part of having a boy: He loves loves loves his mama. He even dreams about me. Here’s the proof:

7 things I learned in marriage counseling.

Eighteen years we’ve been married. Time has dragged on forever on a lot of days, but just as many have flown by as fast as the family-pack is devoured by our hungry children on Taco Tuesdays. It’s been the best of times. It’s been the worst of times. As a wife, I gave myself an A+ for over a decade….I was oblivious to my own short-comings and blamed my man for ~~most~~ all things wrong in our family. When things started getting more complicated we started marriage counseling and my perfect oblivion was brought to a screeching stop. Those darn psychologists always have a magical way of making people see the truth. And my magical mirror is harsh!! It took the best of professionals (and multiple ones, at that) to help me see the many ways that I had failed and continue to fail in my marriage, but I’m the better for it.

I read a poignant article the other day entitled “What Your Husband Really Wants” and it had my mind racing in and out of the many ways I’ve learned to give my husband what he wants. And just like kindergarten, everything I need to know I learned in marriage counseling.

Number 1 – He wants to be your hero. My husband wasn’t able to be my hero because my fierce independence and “I can do it myself” attitude never allowed him to be. Much of the time I would be running around the house like a tornado on its way to Oz all upset that once again he was sitting on the couch while I so desperately needed a break. How could he be so oblivious? Unbeknownst to me he was sitting on the couch because after many years of trial and error the genius of a man knew it was the safest place. He thought he was being my hero by getting out of my way when I really needed a hero to switch me places and take some of the responsibility off my spiraling shoulders. Well, in marriage counseling I’ve learned the hard way that if the queen wants a knight in shining armor, she has to let him be the king. If every time he tried to help, I bit his face off for something then he figured I would be happier if he was out of the way.

2 – He wants to be your lover. I feel like this is the area where I probably struggle the most. I don’t want to get into too much detail as I have to remember that this very post may be accessed by future employers and/or my mother-in-law. Let’s just say that it takes two to tango. I have learned that I am equally as bad at receiving as I am at giving undivided attention. Sure I can go through the motions and I have A LOT (ha!), but if my heart isn’t there then it is just as damaging to my husband as leaving him exiled on the couch. At one point our therapist gave us a “touching” exercise. We were to take 30 minutes each where the other would just touch us all over. We weren’t allowed to talk; we had to be naked. It totally wigged me out. It took this exercise for me to get in touch with a lot of real hang-ups I have….seventeen years later. My poor poor lover was constantly being rejected. This area is a real battle for me. I have learned that sex isn’t meant to be just physical but is best and healthiest when it’s emotional. It takes vulnerability to create true intimacy.

3- He wants to be your best friend. This is an area that has been our marriage’s saving grace. Since the very beginning my husband has been my best friend: I love being with him, I tell him everything, and he is the first person I call when I have good or bad news. I also know that he considers me to be his best friend, but as is true with all of my friendships, I have a lot of room for improvement. I am a horrible listener which makes connection very one-sided. My impatience is not helpful to either side of the friendship and my quickness to problem-solve and rescue instead of just supporting is hugely problematic. Here, it boils down to trust…I can be a much better friend when I trust myself to be a good friend and I trust my best friend to take care of himself.

4 – He wants to understand you. For a lot of women this is a problem because they aren’t willing to share their deep desires. Like me, they also aren’t forthright with what they need. I, in my great need to be understood, over-share everything with a hidden agenda of control. I’ve been let-down (by my own hypersensitivity and others negligence) in my life so much that I feel like I have to now control everyone around me so they won’t hurt me. “I love daisies, but they can’t be orange. For my birthday, here is my list…make sure #2 is just the right size. No, we can’t go there to eat, you know I hate Indian food.” Trust me, we could do this all day. I guess what I have learned the most here is that being truly understood trumps any manipulated derivative that he could offer. I’ve had to let go of control and accept what others have to offer. What is more important: that he gets me the right kind of flowers or that he knows I’m having a crappy day? That I get what I want for my birthday or that he loves me enough to buy me a present? That we go where I want for dinner or that he wants to be with me on a date?

5 – He wants to protect you. It would be interesting to hear my husband’s opinion on this one, but I think he would probably correlate this to what I’ve already said about letting him being my hero. If I am all suited up in body armor of my own making and I think I can wield a sword better than he can then what is there for him to protect? I don’t need to be weak to be protected, but I do need to be humble enough to let him stand next to me on the enemy line. At the very least I need to not stand across from him with my gun pointed in his direction. That’s figurative not literal, in case you are wondering about how necessary marriage counseling is for us. A healthy relationship requires an “it’s me and you against the world” mentality.

6 – He wants to make you happy. There are two things I’ve learned about happiness. 1- No one else can make me happy. 2 – I can’t make anyone else happy. People can however work together with others for mutual happiness. The fact that my man goes to marriage counseling with me is the best way that he has shown me how important my happiness is to him. I have learned how to be happy without him. He has learned how to be happy without me. Therefore WE have learned how to be happy with each other. My happiness increases as his happiness does and visa-versa. This makes me very happy.

7 – He wants to be himself. This is perhaps the trickiest of the seven. What should we do as human beings with inherent flaws especially when we are in a marriage? Is it really fair for my husband to be himself if being himself hurts me in some way? Is it fair for me to be overly critical (which I am) because that is just the way that I am? Yes, we want to be ourselves, but, yes, we should also try to improve – especially for our spouse. I remember well the day we met with my psychiatrist who was discussing the behaviors associated with my bipolar disease and the management of such behaviors. LG asked, “How do I know the difference between Alice being bipolar and Alice just being Alice? I married her because I love some of these things about her – even if they are bipolar.” That, my friends was the most romantic thing I had ever heard. I think back on it often. He loves me for me, even if me is kind of screwed up. I try to give him the same benefit of the doubt although I think he is better at this than I am. I have found that I am always the best at letting him be himself when I put his needs above my own and he has learned that I am better at overlooking his weaknesses when he lets me know his awareness of them and how he is working at fixing them.

So, there you have it: my cliff’s note version of three years of marriage counseling. Yes, it has taken me three years to work my way up from a big fat F to a pretty solid C, if I do say so myself. I can honestly say that my marriage is the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. It’s the worst because that mirror it forces me to look in is so very harsh! It’s the best because when I look in the mirror and start to cry at all the flaws that I see in myself, my man has always been there to love me through it. It’s my honor and privilege (when I succeed at it) to do the same for him.

Why? Because the amazing man that is my husband LeGrand makes me happy. He is my protector. He gets me. He is my best friend. He’s my lover. He’s my hero.

I feel a song coming on:

I belong with you. You belong with me. You’re my sweetheart. I love you LG.

A Mother’s Standing Ovation

I’m a sucker for standing ovations. I often embarrass my unexcitable husband by being the first to my feet at the end of a concert or during the final bows of a play. It’s not that I’m easily amused and overly generous with my applause, it’s just that if something is really really good, my body will not allow me to stay in my seat. It just has to show that its pleased – clapping isn’t enough.

So, when I see stories like this one below about a kid on stage who started out weak but nailed it on his second try, even if I’m watching from my computer at home, my feet always silently join the deserved ovation. My tears usually join in the ovation also by overflowing onto my cheeks. Like I said, I’m a sucker. I’m also a cry-er. (that’s not a word – in case, like me you are tempted to look it up) Exultation should be a whole body experience, right?

I think the reason that people are really happy for others in their standing ovations is because every soul longs for one of their own. I admit it; I can never get enough applause for myself. Now, I know that I will never receive an ovation for my talents onstage; my singing is mediocre, my dancing is painfully uncoordinated, and I am not sure if I could ever come up with any idea this unique, but standing ovations aren’t limited for the artists. They are also available for the athletes, the veterans, the graduates…all kinds of accomplished individuals. I often think to myself, “Surely, there is some area where I can be uber-accomplished.”

As one who gives more of herself to mothering than anything else, I often wonder what the equivalent of a standing ovation is for us.That’s because they never seem to happen! When I get all the laundry put away for the first time in a week, there is never anyone there clapping for me. In fact, I accomplished this just yesterday (which was a huge feat for a mom of 5 kids, one being a newborn) and I was only met with the hubby remembering at 10:30 p.m. that he needed one of his work shirts ironed! Don’t judge – I gave up ironing years ago. Darnit! My self-satisfaction didn’t even last an hour.

Like you, my kids never even thank me for dinner much less clap or whistle? And as much as I’ve visualized such, I’ve never once heard anyone holler “bravo” after I dragged my weary body to the side of the 5-year-old’s bed for story-time once again. So much work goes into motherhood, and I believe the job is grossly suffering from the lack of standing ovations. We should seriously change this. Next time you have a moment of masterful motherhood, I want you to know that I will totally jump to my feet. Hopefully visualizing a greater pretend audience reveling in your talents will put a smile on your face when you’re reality is only met with the screams of your toddler or the whining of your teenager. (Or if you are like me and are a mom who spread her kids way out – both at the same time.)

So, as I use my blog to brag about myself in a second, I hope you know that the following story is prefaced with a million ~~years~~ moments where no one was cheering. The other day, I got a standing ovation. At the arrival of it from my 15-year-old daughter I realized that a mother’s standing ovation is so very hard to hear because it is only found in the heart of her children.

My standing ovation came in the form of a facebook message from my Abigail. It was a sweeter than sweet message combined with a movie (that you must watch) about the typical ovation-less life of a mom. I had seen the movie and enjoyed it before, but it took on a whole new meaning for me when shared along with this meaningful message from one of my own:

Mom, this made me think of you. Even though you don’t always get done what you want, thank you for helping me and everyone else all the time. You are not a failure. I love you:)

The hearts of children are the greatest place for ovations to be kept because on the very rare occasion when the mom-ovations are shared, they’re more raucous than the Derek Jeter fans at Yankee Stadium.

Now, my 5-year-old just screamed from the bathroom, “Mom, come wipe my butt!” That so doesn’t sound like a standing ovation. I’ll finish off this post while visualizing the day in the near future that she poops at school and discovers that she really can wipe her own butt. How did all you clapping moms get in her school bathroom for my mom-ovation?

I bow to you all and thank you for your exuberance in my mom success. “Thank you.Thank you very much.” Blowing you kisses.

Soccer is like the gospel.

Abigail is giving a talk in church today. I am at home with Maximus feeling a little sad that I am missing it. Mothers should be able to be in more than one place at a time, gosh dangit! I will be there in spirit. [Even though I have taken Max everywhere it seems….I vowed to take one month off church when he was born and I aim to keep it.] Abigail asked me to look over her talk just a few minutes ago and we hurried and made a few minor changes as she walked out the door. I am so proud of her and the woman she is becoming. I am so happy that she has a testimony in the gospel that LeGrand and I have tried to teach. I thought you all might enjoy reading her talk.

After preparing this talk, I realized that this is a talk on repentance, Repentance is usually something you don’t think about when you hear “what are some blessings you have received from living the gospel” – which was my assigned topic. But after thinking about it, I realized that repentance is one of the greatest blessings we have as members of the church. This past summer, i gained a testimony about the blessing of repentance.

I was given a challenge for soccer that would help me to make the team. It was focused around three things: mind, character, and body. We were given things that we had to accomplish in order to complete the challenge. We had to exercise the given workouts every day, eat absolutely no sugar, candy, or soda, and do an act of service everyday. We were also given bigger tasks, like doing 200 ball push ups in one day or do something physically hard for us. We were to do the challenge for 35 days. At first, I started out great, I did every workout, made my own healthy treats, helped more around the house. I felt fantastic.

But, about 2 weeks into the challenge, i started having pains in my hip. At first they weren’t that bad and I thought it would go away, but like most things where you think that, it didn’t. It got to the point where I couldn’t run without pain and I had to go to a physical therapist to work out the injury. I had slipped up. Being injured, I then obviously couldn’t do the workouts, but that didn’t mean i couldn’t do the rest of it. However, i didn’t think that but I allowed my discouragement to justify further slip up.. For the two or three weeks that I was out of the workouts because of my injury, I occasionally had the can of soda, and ate the piece of candy that was in front of me. But that was no big deal, right? Wrong. I still did the big challenges. I did my 200 push ups and at the end when my injury was mostly healed, I ran up to the Y, but, I didn’t fully complete the challenge because I struggled with doing 100% of the small things every day. I did the best I could, kinda. When tryouts came, I felt unsure. I’m pretty sure if I had fully completed the challenge, i would have been confident of making the team.

This story can apply to the gospel because like in the T-Wolf challenge, we are given a list of requirements to get to the Celestial kingdom. We have to read our scriptures every day, say prayers, and keep the word of wisdom. We also have those big requirements like baptism and temple marriage. If we are unable to do one of those things, like for instance read the scriptures, we can still pray and keep the word of wisdom, but we won’t be fully confident when the time comes that we are ready for celestial glory. As a youth, it is hard to keep ALL the commandments. The big ones like no killing and stealing aren’t that hard. But the small ones we have to complete everyday are pretty difficult, like obeying my parents and daily personal prayer. In the T-Wolf challenge, I wasn’t really worthy to make the team, however with God’s help, I did. Just like in living the gospel, through the Atonement, we can still make the team.

Dieter F. Uchtdorf said, “There are some who believe that because they have made mistakes, they can no longer fully partake of the blessings of the gospel. How little they understand the purposes of the Lord. One of the great blessings of living the gospel is that it refines us and helps us learn from our mistakes. We “all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God,” yet the Atonement of Jesus Christ has the power to make us whole when we repent.”

I was supposed to talk about blessings you recieve from living the gospel, but it dawned on me. We have a lot of blessings from living it fully, duh. But most of the time, we don’t live it fully. We aren’t perfect. We physically can’t live the gospel perfectly. But because of the blessing of the Atonement we can achieve the ultimate goal of celestial glory and that is the greatest blessing of all.

D&C 76: 40-42

And this is the gospel, the glad tidings, which the voice out of the heavens bore record unto us—That he came into the world, even Jesus, to be crucified for the world, and to bear the sins of the world, and to sanctify the world, and to cleanse it from all unrighteousness; That through him all might be saved.

Always Finish Fast

A few months back I briefly mentioned the stress I was feeling about my oldest’s desire to play high-school soccer. I stressed all summer for no reason as she made the team. Watching her play at the high-school level has been one of my greater privileges as a parent. Not only is she ecstatic to play as part of a great team which makes her so happy, she is also a great competitor that makes her mom and dad very proud.

Watching Abigail play has also been frustrating at times. Abigail is speedy fast – Speedy Gonzalez fast. She gets it from her dad or from her ADHD (so, her dad either way.) In the ten years she has been playing soccer there have only been a handful of girls that could beat her on the field. Her coaches have best used her speed at the forward position for the last two years and it’s been a hard transition for her from playing midfield. Being a forward means she is responsible for shooting the ball – more precisely, she is responsible for making the goals. The problem has been that her speed can’t make up for her lack of confidence. Even though she can beat almost everyone to the ball, she usually gets all worked up in her head and chokes on the shot. Her last coach said it best, “She has such raw talent, she has just been under-coached.” [Disclaimer: She’s had some great coaches, it’s just that they can only do so much in rec. leagues.] If we had put in all the extra time and money for a club team, it is more than likely that she would have been rid of butterflies a long time ago…I am so grateful that her high school coaches have had tremendous patience.

So, as a mother watching this all go down, this year, I made a conscious effort to not “coach” her but to tell her repeatedly that she can do it. Because nothing is more frustrating than knowing your kid can do something but seeing them screw up their own success with a negative self-dialogue. Well, after weeks of the “you-can-do-it” pep talks, she finally shot and scored!

Here’s the shot.

This guy gets it. It’s all in the attitude.

I thought you would all like to see what it looked like when she finally succeeded: definitely worth all the moments of defeat and frustration. This photo brought tears to her mother’s eyes. (I missed the real thing because I was at Sophia’s parent/teacher conferences) Just believe. You can do it. Or like he said – Always, always finish fast – even if you start out slow – especially when you start out slow.

Maximus is the greatest

Introducing our SON
Maximus LeGrand Gold
Born at 1:17 pm. 7 lb. 9 oz. 20″

At the ripe age of forty, I gave birth to my crowning jewel last Monday. After four wonderful beautiful daughters, God saw it fit to bless us with a son. I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve any of them, yet, they are here and they are mine. Bear with me as I indulge myself a post to reflect on motherhood and what it means to me.

I believe I could just type “All I’ve got is tears,” and that may be my best explanation, but let me try and put those tears into words, no matter how pathetic it may turn out.

We struggled with naming Max. LeGrand got to pick the name and was really set on Nathaniel, but our 15-year-old, Abigail, hated the name. I liked it, especially since it is the name of one of LG’s really cool great great grandfathers, but I didn’t want it to be shortened to Nathan or Nate. And you know that they (meaning everyone) always shorten everything (coming from the mom of an Abigail who is Abbie, an Isabella who is Bella, and a Sophia who is NOT Sophie out of her sure determination in correcting everyone.) Sophia loves Greek and Roman tradition and so we went back to the drawing board (the internet) and looked up Latin names. When I read aloud Maximus, the name instantly sang to the whole family. As everyone gave their approvals individually it became official as we went around the room and each one-at-a-time declared a collective fondness for Maximus. It just clicked with all of us. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The meaning of the name was just a perfectly fit bonus:

The Greatest

Not only did “The Greatest” go good with the already chosen middle name of LeGrand, which means the “The Big”, but it was a ringing of what was in all of our hearts…we were all finally getting another man in our family and that was pretty much the greatest thing that could ever happen. And we have not been disappointed. He is the greatest. Honestly.

I don’t know what it is, but there is something special about this baby. I don’t know if it’s because I am so much older or if it’s because he’s a boy, or maybe it’s just that I am reflecting an obvious adoration from our whole family, but this kid is the greatest. I have never been so proud. I feel like a peacock strutting around with my feathers. He is total perfection…..and God granted me the privilege of creating him, growing him, and birthing him. How does God find me worthy for that? I don’t know, but He does. It’s completely astounding.Totally overwhelmed is how I feel at the honor of the privilege and responsibility.

Last night as we were going to bed, LG and I talked about each of our kids individually (as we often do) and submerged into the swamp of life as we reflected on emotional, physical, and spiritual needs that always seem greater than what we feel we have to give. If you think about it, it really is a miracle that parents show up every day, knowing they are going to fail no matter how hard they try….and that they do that day after day, year after year. The hardest part about kids growing up is not that they become sassy teenagers (that’s actually pretty entertaining): it’s that they become your reflection.

I’ve been made to stare at myself four times over with my girls: at times all of my glory shines through them…all of God’s glory shines through them. Often, though, all I can see is my many vulnerable raw flaws in them….ones that I don’t want to have, much less bestow upon my most beloved children. Yet, I’ve given it all to them: the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. Looking through my own trash is the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. Knowing that I’ve embedded even the tiniest sliver of it into them is suffocating: like a deadly respiratory virus with no doctor. I know that I’ve screwed them up. I can’t deny it. No matter how hard I have tried to keep my trash to myself, it somehow got to them and tarnished them. Oh, how that fact hurts.

But, guess what? When I allow Him, God sorts through their trash -my trash- for me and He throws it all out and allows me to see only the shining jewel that I started with. The shining jewel that was His, that he loaned me, because He loves me and believes in me and wants to give me His joy. All five (it sounds so awesome to say FIVE) of my children are shining jewels. Walking miracles. Beloved son and daughters of God. It is God that gives me the greatest miracle – the miracle of the atonement – the miracle that sometimes shines brightest for me today in my kids: imagine it: only shining jewels to be found where for years I have involuntarily deposited my trash.

It’s just that when I look at Maximus (and oh how I could stare at him all day), there isn’t any trash to sort through just yet. The only deposit I have made so far is not trash but my greatest gift to offer: childbirth. God in his infinite wisdom and mercy knew exactly what He was doing when He called upon me to be that “older” mom. He wasn’t giving me a burden, He gifted me a rare jewel. Max is the greatest because it is he who has helped me see the jewel in all of them. Maximus is the perfect name because he came with the greatest message, “They are mine Alice. They are all mine. They are the rarest jewels, and yeah, you will dirty them up, but you are still good enough to be their mother. I will clean up your mistakes: all of them. You are my jewel and I have not a single flaw.” God is so good at reminders.