Inspiring

Mom’s Search For Meaning

I spend about 83.2% of my time looking for stuff.

And, no, this is NO exaggeration.

There are things that just have to be found: the best deal at the stores, shoes, pacifiers, whatever it is that is causing that stench under the back seat of my minivan. (and boy that’s a squeeze for these hips that have birthed four children). Ticks. (We’ve got a lot of those in the South) Where is that darn coupon? I filed it right here! Oh, and the library books…oh those library books. They never go away, except when they are due and can’t be renewed.

The list goes on. Which can of tomato soup is the oldest? Where in the world is that bill that needs to be paid. (He didn’t follow the system of what basket it goes in…you ladies know what I am talking about.) “Oh, yes, kids, I know exactly where that missing game piece is.”

There are the more complex things to look for. The homework that somehow didn’t make it back in the backpack. The bra with just the right amount of padding for a ten year old. The stuff at the pharmacy that will magically cure my husband of his snore before he goes to Scout Camp.

The other night brought a fun challenge. “Mom, do you remember that paper that my teacher sent home on the first day of school? It has my log in and password for the website on it. I need it. My teacher says it will be a pain to look up my number. He can look it up if you can’t find the paper, but it will be a pain.” (Um, what about me here? Seriously? Are you kidding me? That was what? 5, 6 weeks ago?) “Yes honey, I would love to spend the next 1/2 hour searching. It’s my favorite thing to do. You know I love to find things.” Lucky for me I keep most papers that look remotely important. Unlucky for me, we had put this paper in the girls keepsake tote not my pile to be filed. There went another hour to tack onto my fake time clock. Man, if I could just punch in and out. I would ask for minimum wage. No one could afford to pay me a higher salary.

Then there are the most important Mom searches. The ones with meaning. Are those lying eyes? What does that smirk on his face mean? Is that a tear rolling down my daughter’s cheek? Or is that not a tear when there should be one? Where is she hiding and why is she hiding? Why is this one crying and the other one hiding?

How about the searches we like to avoid? Am I doing a good enough job here? Have I got through to my children in the areas of the utmost importance? Do they know I love them? Do they know they are of infinite worth? Do they know that they can accomplish their goals? Do they have goals? Do they believe in what is right? Have I been a good example? Do my kids know I would do anything for them? That I will always be here for them? Will they tell me when they are in trouble?

I love it when the searches are for fun random items. Just this week, I have looked for light sabers at least 20 times. They needed them to read their library books before bed.

Trust me when I say we can do this all night.

Once in a lifetime, as a mother, you find the best find ever. The other night it came out of Sophia’s journal. It would have been so much sweeter if I hadn’t just got onto the girls about keeping track of their “own crap” (in my exact words). It may not have meant as much if my frustration hadn’t mounted.

If you can’t read the photo, it says:
“My hero is: mommy. Because: she can find anything.”

Needless to say, I think I will be spending that 83.2% of my time with a smile on my face and love in my heart. I’m a hero now. It makes my searching so much more enjoyable.

Now, I am off to find the baby. Where did I leave her?
Oh, and the cat. Can’t lock up without her inside.

O.k. I admit it.

I cried when I watched this with my kids on Saturday.

LG made fun of me during Sunday School yesterday

while he explained that just because one has emotion

it doesn’t mean that they are feeling The Spirit.

I would like to make an argument that it could have been

The Spirit

and not just my well of tears that we call mother’s emotion.

Galations 5:22-23

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.

I was feeling love for Michael Jackson.

I was feeling joy in knowing that back in the day,

all those artists gave to the greater good.

I was feeling peace, thinking back on simpler times we called the 80’s.

I was feeling longsuffering because let’s face it, that diamond studded glove can really make one suffer in pain wondering what’s the point.

I was feeling gentleness as I explained for the 20th time how amazing was the phenomenon of We Are The World.

How can one not feel faith at the lyrics:

“As God has shown us, by turning loaf to bread.”

Especially when the voice singing is Willie Nelson?

And now I am tired and don’t want to think too hard of meekness or temperance.

But, I am sure that I could come up with something.

If I knew that I was going to have to defend my tears

in Sunday School next week.

Consider this a warning for ratting me out LG.

In this life, I was loved by you

Yesterday,
Bella was throwing a typical fit.
She even wrote me a note.
It said,
“Nobody likes me.”
Did I teach her to feel this way?
To self depricate?
I worry about it.
I tried to reason with her.
I told her that lots of people love her.
I told her that if she whines and cries,
it makes people uncomfortable,
and they may not want to play with her,
when she acts like that, but they still love her.
She was on the couch pouting.
It was funny,
I had been feeling kind of the same way.
I was doing dishes pouting.
I laughed.
Just as Bella was waiting for someone or something
to make her feel better,
I had been waiting
for my husband to make it better.
I should have written him a note
that said
“Nobody likes me.”
It might have been a little less subtle than my pouting.
I thought about what I wanted to hear.
I decided to test it on Bella.
To see if it would make everything better.
So, I said to Bella:
“Alice…um…I mean, Bella, I love you.
You mean the world to me.
I am so proud of you.
You are such a good helper.
Even if nobody else likes you,
I like you a lot.
I love you a lot.
I’m sorry that you are sad.”
She was miraculously cured.
People say women are complicated.
Really we aren’t.
We just want to be loved.
Like everybody else.

Here are the ever so true lyrics to one of my favorite songs:
For all I’ve been blessed with in this life
There was an emptiness in me
I was imprisoned by the power of gold
But one honest touch could set me free
Let the world stop turnin’
Let the sun stop burnin’
Let them tell me love’s not worth going through
If it all falls apart
I will know deep in my heart
The only dream that mattered had come true
In this life, I was loved by you
For every mountain I have climbed
Every raging river crossed
You were the treasure that I’d longed to find
Without your love I would be lost
Let the world stop turnin’
Let the sun stop burnin’
Let them tell me love’s not worth going through
If it all falls apartI will know deep in my heart
The only dream that mattered had come true
In this life, I was loved by you

Speaking Out

I read a quote on Candace Salima’s blog this morning.

Thomas Jefferson once said, “All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.”

I think Thomas Jefferson would have been proud of me yesterday. In fact, I think he would like me a lot; I’ve never been much good at keeping my mouth shut. There are times when a mom just has to speak out and yesterday was one of those. I just couldn’t turn my back on my great country.
I took all three girls to Wal-Mart yesterday afternoon. As I was waiting to check out, there were two women checking out in front of me. Between the two of them, they had three little girls. They were the most darling children. They were just beautiful. Two looked like twins and they were all about three years old.

My girls parked it on the floor behind my buggy with a People magazine. They always do this to pass the time, but this time they couldn’t completely concentrate. They were totally distracted by what was unfolding in front of us, as was I.

While the new checker was completely oblivious, these little girls started loading up their arms with whatever they wanted from the shelves surrounding the check stands. We may not have paid much attention either, but they were knocking down a bunch of stuff while in the process, and I was surprised that their mothers didn’t do anything about it. My girls were most certainly coveting some of the toys, lip glosses, and candy that they were gathering, but never said a word. They know that their allowance would have to be used and I was delighted that the magazine combined with these younger children misbehaving was distracting them from their usual, “Mom do I have enough money to buy this?”

So, on with the story, I was floored because the mother directed the children in Spanish to get a bag from the check stand and to put their stuff in it. The girls each got a bag and did exactly that. What really triggered me is that these sweet little girls kept adding to their loot. They were so excited about all their stuff and kept hugging one another and telling each other gracias and that they loved each other.

I looked to the front of the store to see if I could go and forewarn a worker before their exit, but there was just a teenage kid at the greeting place. I knew it was all up to me.

As the moms finished their shopping. I felt a twinge of guilt. I knew what I was about to do, but I have to say that I almost didn’t because I felt sympathy as they used the last of their food stamps and were counting change to pay for the remaining bill. They had only bought one non-food item, fabric softener. These children were clean and had obviously been cared for physically. They had cute little outfits on and darling sandals.

But, I forged ahead, as it wasn’t their physical needs I was worried about. My motherly instincts came out in full force as anxiety swept over me for the moral character they were being taught. Who teaches a three year old to steal? Especially when you live in a country that basically hands you everything you need, whether you are a citizen or not. And these girls were loaded up with non-essentials. Believe it or not, I was kind of scared. I started the inner dialogue with myself so that I could find the courage to do the right thing.

Right as the second woman was finishing up and the first woman had gathered all the girls around the buggy to leave, I approached. I looked the woman straight in the eye and pointing to the children and their loot bags I said, “They did not pay for those things. They can’t just take them.”

This mom was stunned. She gave me a non appreciative look which silently stated, “Mind your own business.”, but proceeded to take the things from the girls and she placed them on the adjacent check stand. She never quit glaring at me. The one little girl (who I believe belonged to this first woman) went ballistic, throwing a pretty good kiddy tantrum. The other two twins almost seemed relieved.

I guess they don’t want to live among tyranny either.

And, someday maybe my kids will remember me as a mom who wasn’t afraid to stand up for what was right. I hope they won’t just think that I don’t know how to mind my own business because I could have very easily kept my mouth shut.

The moral of the story: don’t check out in front of me if you are the kind of parent who corrupts my world. This mom happens to be one who still believes in the pillars of moral character that they teach at school. (Ironic that I took this photo at the school just one hour before this incident occured, huh?) And I believe in doing what it takes to teach my daughters and yours, and when you fail, you give that right to me.

A message for the mothers

I read John’s blog yesterday. He was a little worried about his assignment to preach a sermon on Mother’s Day. I shared my thoughts with him about what a huge challenge I think that would be. It is a hard task to pay tribute to motherhood without making mothers feel guilty about what they aren’t accomplishing, or further hurting those who’ve lost their moms, or the women who can’t have children for whatever reason who long for nothing else but motherhood.

I think one of the greatest challenges about Mother’s Day Sunday though is forgetting the worship of our Savior. So many years, all you ever hear about are the mothers, and it seems to be forgotten that Sacrament Meeting is meant for worshiping our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Lori posted this video today from the church website. I thought it was a PERFECT Mother’s Day message. Not only because it spoke to me so strongly a few weeks back when I first heard it, but because the message of our Savior taking on himself all of our trials and discomforts is exactly what moms need to remember. Jesus Christ NEVER stops thinking of us and he never gives up on us, even when it may seem like we are all alone in a insurmountable task of raising God’s children.

Well Rounded

We are trying to teach our girls to be well-rounded.
This photo is one proof that we are succeeding.
Sophia is a fashionista who plopped down to read in the field
as soon as soccer was over last week.
Another proof happened last Saturday.
Here was the conversation between LG and I:
LG: “The girls don’t want to eat their lunch until this round is over.”
Me: “This round?”
LG: “Yeah, didn’t you know that they watch WWF every Saturday.”
And then Sunday after church,
here was the conversation between the girls and I.
Me: “O.k. girls, let’s do something else besides watch T.V. today.”
Abigail, “Well, what about the opera?”
(They have been watching the opera every Sunday.)
Me: “O.k. you can watch T.V. if it’s the opera,
or we will help you pick a Sunday appropriate movie.”
Sophia replied with, “I’m not in the mood for the opera.”
Abigail screamed, “Can we watch Harry Potter?”
I’ve told them that they can watch any movie on Sunday
as long as they can tell me how that movie
helps them think about God or Jesus Christ.
hmmmmm…I wonder what Abigail’s answer
to the frequently repeated question would have been:
“What does Harry Potter teach you about God or Jesus Christ?”
I am sure she would have come up with something.
Our girls are well-rounded like that.
They have keen understanding.
It’s all because of the WWF and the Opera;
And the soccer and the reading.

One word
This post was inspired by Scribbit’s April Write-Away Contest.
There is one word that is always appropriate. This word is there no matter what the circumstance. Joy and pain. Trials and triumphs. Ups and downs. Sickness and health. Obstacles and open roads. Wonder and boredom. Love and annoyance. Hopefully more love. As unbelievable as it may sound, this one word can bring incredible comfort and total terror all in the same utterance.

The word can be whispered or belted. Shrieked or endeared. It has a version in every language known to mankind and is often the first word mastered by a developing infant. I am pretty sure that there are even distinct animal noises used for its meaning. I swear sometimes I can hear our family cat meow it out when she wants to get in or out of the house.

This one word can be enunciated with many different dialects even by the same child. It has endless amounts of pronunciations….the one syllable miraculously changes in tone, depending on the circumstance.

You hear it at the grocery store from a wandering child. The tone a little frightened but loud and strong, “Mom?!” Sometimes you go searching for a lost one, even though you know that none of yours are there. Some of yours may be lost, so, you just can’t help but make sure that the one calling out is not.

What about the eulogy so powerful it brought the room to tears….”most of all, she is my mom, and always will be, and to me nothing else is more important about her.”

The teenager tends to irreverence the name the most, “Just ignore her; pretend she’s not my mom.”

I even heard a police officer once tell a classroom full of children: “If you are ever in trouble, get safe as fast as possible. If someone is hurting you, tell a teacher, or a police officer, or find a mom with kids as fast as you can.”

Perhaps the sweetest utterances of the one all powerful word are the ones from little children. They seem to use the word more than anyone. The word seems to work in all circumstances for all of their needs. Let me give you a few examples from my own experience.

“Mom, I didn’t get elected for student council. Mom….” followed by incoherent sobs.

“MOM!!!! Her hair, it’s tangled up in the rope swing…..Hurry mom.”

“Guess what, mom?”

“Mom, I think there is chocolate in the carpet, or maybe it’s poop?”

“Mom, it hurts so bad.”

“Mom, are you coming on my field trip?”

“Mom, don’t forget your camera.”

“Mom, I need a band-aid.”

“Mom, she’s bugging me again.”

“Mom, will you read me a story?”

“Mom, will you please stop taking pictures!?”

“Mom, I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“Mom, I drew you a picture….look, the big one is you, and the little one is me.”

“Mom, I had a bad dream.”

“Make her stop, mom.”

“Mom, I don’t want to set the table.”

“Mom, I’m hungry.”

“Mom, I’m bored.”

“Mom, I can’t find my shoes.”

“Mom, can we go to the movies?”

“Mom, where is my library book?”

“Mom, when is dad coming home?”

“Mom’s what for dinner?”

“Mom, can you check my homework?”

“Mom, can you help me clean my room?”

“Mom, I am sick of spelling.”

“No, mom, I am not tired.”…followed by sobbing, slight nodding, and the sweet sound of heavy breathing.

Every utterance of the word seems to carry a different emotion and a different intonation. The whole spectrum is in there. It’s as if, just by simply adding “mom”, magic will be inevitable. Mom can make everything o.k. Mom can motivate. Mom can comfort. Mom can fix. Mom knows all. Mom is almost omnipotent. Mom is totally versatile, even when she doesn’t budge. Mom can tell you what you need to hear, even when she is a push over.

Sometimes when the word mom is added to a sentence it completely brightens one’s existence.

“Mom, you are the best mom in the whole wide world.”

“Mom, you are beautiful.”

“Mom, I love you.”

Or one of the best ever:

“When I grow up, I want to be a mom, just like you.”

There are many moments in many days when a mother cannot think of anything better to be called than simply mom. You can give her awards or accolades or certificates or trophies, but nothing outdoes this simple statement of pure admiration, “I want to be a mom”, followed with, “just like you.” No nickname, no term of endearment, not even a kiss from the man you love can make you feel as good as that kid that wants to be just like you. There is no higher compliment.

Of course there are times when we use the word in reference to someone other than our own. I recently heard this from a friend.

“I always wished my mom was more like yours.”

It’s funny because I always wanted my mom to be more like Melanie’s. Man! Toast and hot chocolate never tasted so good. My mom was not a morning person, and Melanie’s mom fed me breakfast almost every morning of junior high school. Why? Because she was a mom. And I had the privilege of watching her answer to every one of Melanie’s “moms” while simultaneously filling my empty stomach as I waited for Melanie, my walking partner.

Now I find my kids using the psychological tactic on me, “Mom, why can’t you be more like so and so’s mom?” I return with the oldy but goodie: “Because her mom doesn’t love her as much as I love you, that’s why. No mom should let their child roam the neighborhood like that.”

As a mom, there is one thing you realize more than anything: moms aren’t perfect. Even if our name carries a need for perfection, all moms screw up. This mom is no different. It’ll be o.k. if my daughters grow up wishing that I was different. Heck, I wish I was different too. They can admire those other moms, and they can even want to be like them when they grow up. It doesn’t diminish the joy that I have in being their mom.

Some days I try to be like Melanie’s mom. I especially have to remember that best tasting toast and hot chocolate every morning when I drag this non-morning mother out of bed. But, most days, I shock myself, because I find myself being a mom that frighteningly resembles my own. I am sure that I say things from time to time that my kids don’t want to hear, striking them with fear. I know my mom isn’t going to tell me what I want to hear most of the time, but who is it that I call when I really need advice?

“Mom, what do you think about….”

“Thanks mom, I feel so much better now.”

When my children hear mom, I am sure they mostly think of me. Sometimes I am sure they will say the one word with terror.

“Mom, I spilled the whole gallon of milk again.”

I know that they will also say the word with admiration. Hopefully more often than with terror.

“Mom, you are so good at cleaning.”

I just pray that when they grow up, no matter whose mom they take after, they will realize that this mom is the one that loved them the most. Hopefully that one word, mom, will mostly bring them comfort. And nothing makes me feel better, except for maybe a compliment from my mom. Especially when it’s:

“Oh Alice, you are such a great mom.”

My Kind of Mom

I got an e-mail forward from my friend Trisha this morning.
I felt it really worth sharing.


There recently was a death of a 98 year-old lady named Irena.

During WWII, Irena, got permission to work in the Warsaw Ghetto, as a Plumbing/Sewer specialist. She had an ‘ ulterior motive ‘ … She KNEW what the Nazi’s plans were for the Jews, (being German.)

Irena smuggled infants out in the bottom of the tool box she carried and she carried in the back of her truck a burlap sack, (for larger kids.) She also had a dog in the back that she trained to bark when the Nazi soldiers let her in and out of the ghetto. The soldiers of course wanted nothing to do with the dog and the barking covered the kids/infants noises.

During her time of doing this, she managed to smuggle out and save 2500 kids/infants. She was caught, and the Nazi ‘ s broke both her legs, arms and beat her severely. Irena kept a record of the names of all the kids she smuggled out and kept them in a glass jar, buried under a tree in her back yard.

After the war, she tried to locate any parents tha t may have survived it and reunited the family. Most of course had been gassed. Those kids she helped got placed into foster family homes or adopted.

Last year Irena was up for the Nobel Peace Prize … She was not selected.

* Al Gore won, for a slide show on Global Warming.